


The Thrill of the Chase Moves in Mysterious Ways

by VeelaWings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Ass Play, Auror Harry Potter, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Cigars, Dirty Talk, Draco Malfoy Adopts Teddy Lupin, Draco Malfoy Has Long Hair, Draco Malfoy In Heels, Draco Malfoy is a Little Shit, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Felching, Genderqueer Expression, Godfather Severus Snape is Done with Draco's Shit, Gun Violence, Harry Potter Does Not Wear Glasses, Harry Potter is Built like a Brick Shithouse, Heavy Drinking, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Kidnapping, Inspired by Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries, LCDrarry, LCDrarry 2020, M/M, Magically Powerful Draco Malfoy, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Multi, Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Poisoning, Public Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Smoking, Unresolved Sexual Tension, ass worship, idiots to lovers, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 32,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24170242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeelaWings/pseuds/VeelaWings
Summary: “Do you have a personal interest in this case, Malfoy?” Harry asked, arms crossed and blocking the view of the body behind him.“Not at all.” Draco smiled sweetly, cuddled into the side of tonight’s date. “Although I did briefly own that painting until it proved to be stolen.” He helpfully pointed to the Renaissance portrait a few metres to their left.“Why is it always so complicated with you?”(Or — Draco solves crimes that don’t technically belong to him and Harry tries not to fall in love. Co-Starring: Hermione, High Heels, and Hiccups along the way. #dat 1920s lyfe)
Relationships: Cho Chang/Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Other(s)
Comments: 68
Kudos: 311
Collections: Lights Camera Drarry 2020





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tedah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedah/gifts).



> Hello Tedah!
> 
> I hope this lives up to your expectations. If you're anything like me, you love Miss Fisher and Inspector Jack Robinson an OBSCENE amount and have watched every episode ...more than a normal number of times haha. It was exhausting, but I feel like I finally hit that balance of paying homage to the original series while still making it Drarry™️. 
> 
> To Everyone Else!
> 
> If you're unfamiliar with Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries - first off, go fix that - I kid, I kid, but please do consider watching it at some point. You can thank me later. As for the setting of this particular story - please forget everything you know of JKR's world cause I'm re-writing a lot of things. Structural systems, beliefs, characters and their backstories and motives and blood status. We're also hand waving how Draco would be treated in the 1920s for being bisexual, wearing high heels, and women's blouses because you gotta fight crime in style, amirite??
> 
> To my Betas!
> 
> E and R you have been so amazingly fabulous this whole time. I sincerely thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of your hand holding and pep talks and constant reassurances that I needed to keep writing this when I thought about dropping out. And for helping me with my tenses cause your girl retained ZERO knowledge from school. I'm also handing out big time kudos to S for screaming with me over 1920s clothing and L for spending an evening researching the Australian government, police enforcement, and official titles with me, just so I could decide to scrap all of it since I didn't like the flow of Harry's compounded title. I wasted our time but at least we had fun? (I'm so sorry)
> 
> And a general thank you to everyone from the Drarry discord who sprinted with me!

**Melbourne, June 1907**

_“—Accio apple, Accio apple. Accio apple! Draco look!”_

_“I told you! I knew we could learn at least five spells before Hogwarts. We’ll be the very best first years in Slytherin! Just like our fathers.”_

_“Accio apple!”_

_“Theo, let’s go show Uncle Severus!”_

**Melbourne, July 1928**

The damp air smelled like sulfur and misery. It was inescapable, despite the row of lit sconces on either side of the drab, magically reinforced void: the Wizarding visitor’s room of Melbourne’s state prison.

Feeling naked without his wand, Draco shivered in his seat, his final allowance of emotion before he forced the perfected Malfoy Mask of indifference to settle into place.

Riddle wasn’t across the table from him yet, but he needed to prepare. 

He couldn’t afford to be easily rattled and drawn into mind games. He was here for answers.

He was here for Theo.

A series of locking mechanisms disengaging echoed across the long room and then a door opened at the top of a rickety metal staircase. Riddle emerged from the darkness, bound in cuffs and chains, hands clasped in front of him and a uniformed guard at his back.

Draco didn’t let himself blink as they proceeded towards the table. He had to stay as still as a statue or risk vomiting onto his own lap.

Riddle was more sullen than he remembered, ugly and gaunt, his dark hair buzzed short and grey at the temples. He slouched as the guard secured him to the chair and floor physically with steel shackles, giving the impression of a man whose pride had been stripped away.

It was an act.

Fourteen years spent in a locked cell hadn’t been enough to subdue the kind of monster Riddle was. Not when there was a guaranteed light at the end of his tunnel.

_Parole for good behaviour._

It made Draco want to thrash and destroy everything in sight, starting with Riddle’s gruesome head.

“You have twenty minutes. In case of emergency, toggle the red switch to your left,” the guard instructed, motioning to the corner of the table. Draco and Riddle remained silent until he vacated the room, through a side door that shut with an ominous clank of metal on metal.

The silence stretched on until Riddle broke the ice.

“Do I know you from somewhere? You haven’t visited me before. I’d remember such a handsome face.”

“It’s been twenty-one years,” Draco said with contempt. Slowly, he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small scrap of silk green fabric. It had been purposely sliced clean long ago, the only scrap of evidence left behind. “My friend’s tie.”

“Draco Malfoy… You’ve grown up nicely.” Riddle smiled, his eyes trailing over Draco in a way that left him feeling dirty. So dirty, that he could never be clean again.

“Theo was never given the chance.”

Riddle sighed when Draco tucked the piece of fabric away and shook his head with feigned disappointment. “I’m deeply sorry that I couldn’t tell your families the information you needed to find him.”

“Then tell me now. He deserves a proper burial.”

“Now, Draco darling, I’ve never confessed to the crime you want me to be guilty of. I simply can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Draco hissed, his composure cracking into jagged edges, his anger bleeding through.

“If you’d like a spot of good news, I have only eleven months more until I’m released. Will you be there to greet me at the gate?” Riddle leaned back in his seat and placed his cuffed hands on the table, seeming to delight in Draco’s anguish. “My favourite thing in the world is a pair of pretty blue eyes, looking up at me in the afternoon sunlight... But your grey eyes will suffice,” he chuckled.

“Crucio!”

Draco cast with his arm outstretched despite missing his wand, tipping his own chair over in his rush to stand. His heart was lodged in his throat, blood coursing through his veins like Fiendfyre unleashed. He could barely see anything but Riddle’s face in front of him, his vision blacking out around the edges like darkness collapsing in.

The magical wards of the room muted the curse to nothing but a single strand of red, a pinprick of energy lashing against Riddle’s face before disappearing into the ether. It was still enough to morph his expression into one of stark pain, his breath choked out into a cough as the lights in the room raised up in warning. 

A siren-like noise rose in the background, alerting the guards.

Riddle laughed as he slumped down in his seat, baring yellow teeth and those wide, ghoulish eyes. He sounded completely unhinged and it sent the feeling of a thousand tiny Acromantulas crawling over Draco’s skin.

“Darling, you must have really meant that to get past the wards of this room. I’m so proud of you. My sweet, sweet Draco.”

Draco turned to his side and dry heaved, unaware of the four guards rushing in to secure Riddle and remove him from the scene. Their shouts and questions blurred into a dull roar in his ears. 

Draco didn’t notice anything really until the wind swept through his hair when he stepped out of the building some minutes later, his wand clutched in hand.

The sound of church bells in the distance announced the start of a new hour.

If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late for tea.

+++++

**// Two Hours Earlier //**

“Would you look at that, boys?” Dr Pansy Parkinson yelled from the edge of Melbourne’s Wizarding dock. “It seems we’ve finally been graced with the presence of The Honourable Mr Draco Malfoy.”

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle snapped to attention from their spot, lounging against their Muggle taxi, to greet Draco with wide smiles and zealous hugs.

After twenty plus years of surviving on international Floo calls and long-range post birds, it was a sweet relief to pick up their friendship right where they left off.

“I’ve missed you all desperately,” Draco said, passing around hugs and cheek kisses several times over.

“Traveling light?” Pansy teased, raising a brow at the numerous trunks levitating behind Draco. 

“You know extension charms only go so far, Pans. There has to be some advantage to Muggle sea voyage otherwise I would’ve taken a Portkey.”

“What about a Lightening Charm?” Vincent complained, setting down the trunk he had tried to lift so Draco or Pansy could pull out their wands.

“They’ve already been Charmed. Sorry,” Draco smirked, not sorry at all.

“You know he has to bring every shiny bauble his mum ever bought him,” Greg laughed, grabbing the handle on one side while Vince took the other, stuck doing chores the Squib way.

“Ignore them. Pay attention to me.” Pansy rolled her eyes and swatted Draco on the shoulder. “Now, what are your intentions? You’ve had three long and terribly boring months at sea to think about it.”

“They weren’t completely boring,” Draco said. He winked at a passing Wizard, whose formal robes were buttoned up properly but was unable to hide a responding blush as he hurried along. “And I intend to leave my parents as far behind as possible, so I can start living my own life.”

“Without forsaking any of their money. I think you’ve managed that,” Pansy said. She waited for Vincent and Greg to load up the final trunk and climb aboard the taxi before following them to sit on the back bench with Draco. “Next?”

Draco hummed and watched the scenery go by, the ride to his hotel a short two streets over. “Well, I could learn a new language. Mandarin, maybe. Or perfect some wandless magic if I’m feeling extra daring.”

Pansy waited until the taxi rolled to a halt and their friends hopped out to offload Draco’s things. “We both know why you’re really here, Draco.” She kissed his cheek and pet his hair, like old times. “Darling, you can’t bring Theo back.”

Draco swallowed around the lump in his throat, already knowing he’d have to bring out the dreamless sleep potion tonight. “But I can stop him from doing it again to someone else. I know he will, Pansy. They can’t let him back out. I don’t give a damn about the sentencing.”

Pansy’s next words were interrupted by a post owl flying in and perching on the wheel. She hooted at Draco and ruffled her feathers. 

“Give the bird a treat, Pansy,” Draco ordered and removed the letter tied around the bird’s leg. 

“I’m not a dispensary.”

“Next time then.” Draco opened the letter as the bird took off, obviously not requiring a reply. “Oh look, I’ve been invited for tea at Lavender's at four o’clock. How lovely. Oh. And Uncle Severus will be there, too.”

“Shame I have to perform an urgent bowel operation,” Pansy muttered as Draco climbed down, wrinkling his nose at her excuse. 

“Disgusting.”

“Splinching accident.”

“Still disgusting.” Draco pulled his long, loose hair back with a hair tie. “No matter, it gives me plenty of time to run a few errands and pick out my most shocking pair of heels.”

“Charming.”

“I thought you said it was urgent.”

“It is, but what kind of friend would I be if I missed your return to Melbourne? Besides—” Pansy hopped down from the taxi. “If I wasn’t here to supervise, what’s to stop you boys from running off to some tit and fanny pub — without me.” Pansy smirked, placing two fingers against her mouth in an open ‘V’ while she flicked her tongue out crudely. 

“You whore,” Draco said with an affectionate smile. 

“Love you too, slut.” Pansy laughed as she turned down an alleyway beside the hotel, and Disapparated with a loud crack.

+++++

Severus was going to be in a snit.

Not only was Draco dressed in those scandalous witch heels — he was late — but it was certainly an overkill to call for a Muggle ambulance.

Draco snorted and stepped down from his broom. With a swish of his wand, he cancelled the Disillusionment Charms and propped his broom against the entrance gate for Terry and Lavender Boot’s home.

He walked up to the open front door and was saved from the effort of knocking when a young maid greeted him. “Hello, I’m Draco Malfoy. Here to see Lavender Boot. She’s expecting me.”

Hermione curtsied and used a tea towel to dry her eyes. “I’m sorry Sir. The tea luncheon has been cancelled due to a family tragedy.” She sniffed and sidestepped the pair of uniformed Muggles who were leaving the house with a stretcher carried between them. A body was covered by a sheet. “Mr Boot passed away today.”

Draco frowned. “That can’t be. He and Lavender invited me for tea this morning.”

Ignoring proper manners, Draco pushed past her and followed the sound of voices until he came across Lavender and Severus in a front parlour. 

“Oh, Draco!” Lavender cried and swept Draco up into a hug, burying her face in his chest. “It’s so terrible.”

Severus remained seated on an ugly taupe couch and frowned into his cup of tea. 

“It’s alright, Lavender,” Draco said, rubbing a comforting hand on Lavender’s back. “What’s wrong? Is there anything I can do?”

“Terry collapsed!” Lavender began trembling in Draco’s arms, her voice wet and patchy. “I thought it was just his heart, but the police have been here all morning.” She pulled away far enough to look up at Draco, tears still running down her face. “Magical police, Draco. Terry and the staff are all Muggles,” she whispered. “It’s unnecessary.”

“That doesn’t mean they hold you responsible for the poor man’s passing,” Severus said, clanking his spoon into his now empty teacup. 

“He’s right,” Draco said, placing a kiss on top of Lavender’s head. “Hello, Severus.”

“Draco.”

“I know,” she said and wiped her eyes. “Let me get you some tea and we can all sit down.” Lavender straightened the fabric of her dress as she left the room, a poor imitation of her usual, well-put-together self.

Draco waited until they were definitely alone before spelling his sequined shirt dry and taking a seat beside Severus. “I see you’re still waiting for funeral robes to return to everyday fashion,” he teased.

Severus looked unimpressed and sent a mild Stinging Hex to Draco’s knee. “And you’re determined to keep dressing like a Muggle prostitute and Wizard gentleman had a bastard child that ran off to perform on an opera stage. If your grandfather Abraxas was still alive—”

“I would’ve been forced into marriage by now. Maybe even to you, dear Godfather,” Draco chuckled, putting up a Shield Charm in time for the next Hex.

“Don’t be absurd, you spoiled child.”

“Then stop insulting me and tell me what I really want to know. What _happened_ here?” Draco leaned in to ask, raising a brow until Severus tucked his wand back into his sleeve.

“You know I’m not one to pry. Or gossip.”

Draco refrained from rolling his eyes, no matter how much he wanted to. “Of course, not you.”

Severus glanced over at the doorway then spoke in a hushed tone of voice, “I couldn’t help overhearing what they were discussing in the hall earlier. The lack of Privacy Charms was completely unprofessional. Anyways, it seems Terry collapsed after his breakfast. Their maid found him upstairs in the bathroom; said he was cold to the touch and quite purple in the face. I was tempted to run a diagnostic spell, but I didn’t want my magical signature to be picked up in case they suspected foul play.”

“Which you already do.”

“Lavender doesn’t look well either. I suggested she take a Pepper-up Potion but she claims to be fresh out. The new help must be useless at inventory. If Alice wasn’t almost as quick as a house-elf and familiar with my schedule, I’d let Lavender have her old maid back.”

Draco opened his mouth but quickly shut it when he heard footsteps nearing the door. 

“Here we go, gentlemen.” Lavender set the tea tray down and busied herself with fluttering movements. 

“Have you seen a mediwizard yet? You look rather pale,” Draco said while he stirred cream into his tea.

“Not yet. I feel awful but I thought it could wait until… Well, I thought I would be joining Terry at St. Gorsemoor Hospital. They have two magical floors above the Muggle ones if you remember.”

“Excuse me, madam,” Hermione interrupted from the doorway. “That policeman wishes to speak to you again.”

“Thank you, Hermione.” Lavender gave Draco’s arm a gentle squeeze and departed once more. 

“Do you supply Lavender with any other potions, Severus?” Draco asked, keeping his eyes on the door. 

“A few, but not any that would cause what’s happened to Terry. It would’ve come from Longbottom’s apothecary or be a Muggle invention.”

“What about—”

“I’m sorry Draco, Severus. The inspector would like all visitors to leave so he may question the household,” Lavender announced.

“Very well, I’ll just need to gather my things,” Severus said and made his way towards the kitchen. “Please keep me informed, dear.”

“Of course,” Lavender nodded and placed a kiss on Draco’s cheek as he passed by. “Let Hermione see you out.”

“I will,” Draco lied.

His curiosity never let him pass by a good mystery.

A Disillusionment Charm and manufactured distraction let him slip by the freckled guard posted at the staircase and up into the Boots’ private bath. Draco just wanted to take a look around. 

Lavender was a friend, but there were reasons why she wasn’t held as closely as Pansy. She’d always been too flighty to be completely trusted — look at her choice in husbands.

Draco shook his head and continued to peek into boxes and drawers. Toiletries, feminine products, tacky lingerie — which Draco would never be caught dead in — and a box of unbranded pink powders. Draco pocketed a few powder packets and closed the cabinet drawer when there was a brash knock on the door. 

“Police! Open this door,” bellowed a deep voice.

“This lavatory is occupied! One moment, please.” Draco spent a minute preening in front of the mirror and cast a quick Smoothing Charm on his long hair. Narcissa would want him to look presentable in front of any possible suitors. He dabbed a bit of borrowed lip cream on for good measure. Now, he was perfectly pink and plush. He winked at his own reflection then opened the door.

To one of the most beautiful Wizards Draco had ever seen.

_Oh, Salazar._

Wild, black curls. Warm, brown skin. Captivating, green eyes. A build that was broad and thick like a brick shithouse. And tall. Merlin, he had to be tall, to be equal in height to Draco with his current high heeled boots. 

Draco was very much in lust right now.

“You must be the Inspector,” Draco smirked, barely glancing at the red-haired guard behind him. “I apologize for my urgent call of nature.”

“This room is the scene of a crime Mr…” The handsome policeman trailed off, pointedly.

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. And lucky for you, I’m wearing gloves,” Draco said before pulling the right one off to shake Handsome’s hand. 

“Am I correct to assume, you weren’t close to the deceased, Mr Malfoy?” Handsome stayed solemn in the face of Draco’s flirting and stepped around him to block off the rest of the room.

“I never had the pleasure to meet him, but I’ve heard he was charming and boring in equal amounts. Do you think he was poisoned?” Draco was perhaps a bit _too_ gleeful at the chance of guessing correctly.

“Most likely—” Cute, freckled guard said before Handsome’s glare shut him up.

“We have yet to determine the cause of death. Now, Mr Malfoy, I appreciate your curiosity for crime,” Handsome said with one hand placed near the top of the door as if to shut Draco out.

“Everyone needs a hobby,” Draco shrugged before gracefully ducking under Handsome’s arm and back into the bathroom.

“But please—”

“Given the lack of blood stains, I assume it wasn’t a violent death, unless of course, it was strangulation, but the fetal position of the victim’s outline - although not terribly well executed, I assume it’s your trainee’s first time casting the Silhouette Preservation Charm? — indicates a degree of pain rather than the flailing limbs one might associate with a struggle.” Draco bounced around the ― indeed sloppy — white magical outline hovering centimetres above the tiled floor, with his usual enthusiasm for all things not considered proper by pure-blood standards.

“And then of course,” Draco continued, “there’s the fact that death occurred after breakfast, according to Mrs Boot, which suggested something ingested? A wild surmise of mine, of course.” Draco tilted his head and offered one of his most handsome smile-and-wink combos.

Freckles was too busy jotting down notes to appreciate it, but Handsome had a lovely flush on his cheeks. Although the tight lines around his mouth suggested it was partly due to irritation. “Of course,” Handsome ground out, elbowing Freckles to dislodge the quill in his hand. 

“Do you have a card?” Draco asked. “In case I need to call the police. Because I am a young man, unmarried and tragically all alone, newly arrived in this very dangerous town—”

Handsome rolled his eyes and tapped his wand against his trousers’ front pocket so a small red business card would float over to Draco. “I plan to make this town less dangerous, Mr Malfoy.”

“Well good,” Draco said, glancing at the card before tucking it away in the breast pocket of his obnoxiously sheer dress shirt. “I do like a handsome man with a plan. Chief Inspector Harry Potter.”

With another wink and a dashing twirl, Draco was bounding back downstairs. Just in time to see the Muggle maid struggle with the Floo, letting it ring and ring until the flames died back down.

Draco muffled his laugh with a forced cough, spooking her into dropping the glass figurine she was dusting. Before he could pull his own wand out to save it, the glass piece shattered on the floor. Then repaired itself and bounced right back into Hermione’s hand - as if by magic. Unexpected magic, judging by the shocked look on her face. 

Accidental magic, even.

_Interesting._

Draco took one step into the hallway and-

“Draco!” 

He rolled his eyes, rerouting his steps towards the receiving parlour where, _lucky for him_ , Severus was still waiting.

“Let me know if I can help with the funeral arrangements, Lavender.”

“Thank you, Severus.”

“I can highly recommend the Hornbeam—”

“Lavender!”

All three heads turned towards an athletic Wizard that swept into the room. 

“Viktor, thank you for coming,” Lavender cried. 

“I got your owl. I’m so sorry to hear about Terry.” Viktor embraced Lavender in a hug, then turned to greet Severus with a dip of his head. “Hello, Master Snape. I tried to Floo over first, but there seems to be an issue with your network, Lavender.”

“That would be our new maid. She’s a Muggle. It’s not the same as having a house-elf,” Lavender sniffed, returning to her seat on a chaise lounge.

“Yes, well, we’re all quite distraught,” Draco said, knocking his boot heel into Severus’s own shoe deliberately.

“Viktor, my manners have deserted me,” Severus said, his sarcasm reigned in enough so only Draco would pick up on it. “Have you met my godson, Draco Malfoy?”

Viktor’s eyes raked over Draco’s body exceptionally slowly, not subtle in the least. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Viktor said, taking his hand to kiss in greeting.

Draco couldn’t place the accent exactly, but it was some sort of eastern European, heavily tinged with French impressions. And hauntingly familiar.

“The soiree!” Lavender dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, Severus, I have the charity soiree planned for tomorrow evening. Viktor was supposed to dance for us. Now, everything must be cancelled, of course. If only the hospital committee wasn't absolutely depending on it.”

“Can’t you tell them you’ve just been widowed?” Draco asked, gaze still locked on Viktor.

“If only she wasn't so good at raising thousands of pounds,” Severus said, pouring himself another cup of tea. It seemed they wouldn’t be leaving soon. “And Merlin knows how we’re supposed to contact the guest list in time. You can’t send out owls en mass to Muggles.”

“Will your guests not understand?” Viktor asked.

“Terry would want us to go ahead with it. He loved helping others.” Lavender levitated her own teacup over.

“I have an idea.” Severus sipped his tea. His smile didn’t bode well for anyone. “Draco and I will take over the arrangements and host the entire evening on your behalf, won’t we, Draco?”

_That old bastard._

“Oh, thank you, Severus!” 

+++++

“You said the husband was fatally poisoned at breakfast?” Pansy asked, her lips wrapped around a cigar she lit with her wand.

“Well, that's the most likely theory. Do you think Lavender could have been slipped something, too?” Draco held out his own cigar.

“Lazy arse.” Pansy tapped his cigar with her wand anyway. “Headache, palpitations, vomiting and... You said she looked deathly pale? That could be caused by anything.”

“Including a tea luncheon with Severus,” Draco smirked. He coughed out a ring of smoke and poured them each two fingers of Ogden’s.

“Thank you. Well if it wasn’t a potion or anything magical, the Muggle favourite is typically arsenic. Easy enough to get a hold of without raising any flags. Cheers.” Pansy clinked shot glasses then swallowed hers down, her body relaxing into the plush couch of Draco’s hotel suite.

Draco followed her lead then pulled out a pink wrapper from his pocket. “I found these hidden in their cabinet. Can you tell what they’re for?”

Pansy groaned and closed her eyes. She took another hit from her cigar before reaching out for the offered wrapper. “I haven’t seen it for sale near here. It looks like a Muggle nerve powder, maybe. The kind usually prescribed for women, of course, _the hysterical sex_.”

“A nerve powder? Like for pain?”

“More like nervous exhaustion, emotional collapse, wandering wombs, that sort of bollocks that some men believe in…”

“Why on Earth would a womb wander?” Draco laughed, coughing on more smoke. _Merlin, it’s been way too long since he indulged._

Pansy snorted like the elegant pig that she was. “Unnatural behaviour will do it according to Hippocrates. Like celibacy.”

“Oh, good. We know mine isn’t going anywhere.”

“Because you don’t have a womb, not because you’re a man whore.” Pansy rolled her eyes, shuffling around on her end of the couch. “Now be a good little whore and massage my feet. I’ve had a long day at the hospital.”

“I can’t believe I missed you.”

+++++

The vibrant sounds of jazz echoed across the marbled first floor of the Boot Estate, the noise of dozens of different conversations muffled behind the ballroom’s closed doors. 

Draco balanced two glasses and a bottle of champagne in one hand, his wand and a plate of cake in the other as he slipped into Lavender’s bedroom on the second floor. “Hello, Gorgeous. I smuggled this upstairs for you. I recommend you swallow at least a bottle’s worth before Severus comes up to check on you.”

Hermione immediately straightened up from fluffing Lavender’s pillows and dipped her head politely to Draco, her eyes never leaving his wand. “Oh, sorry, Sir. Please excuse me,” she said, giving Draco a wide berth as she left the room.

Draco couldn’t resist using his wand to open the door just a bit wider for Hermione on the way out. She seemed… mildly spooked, but didn’t turn around to confirm if Draco had been at fault. Like perhaps, it could’ve happened on its own. Which was ridiculous; this wasn’t a magical family estate at all.

However, that was a puzzle for another time.

Draco dropped a kiss onto Lavender’s hair and sat down on the edge of the bed, pouring a full glass to get her started. “You seem to be coping better than your maid. Severus said you had to let the last one go,” he mentioned casually.

“Oh, yes. It was unpleasant but trivial.” Lavender took the bait like he knew she would and drained her glass in one go, letting out a dainty hiccup that caused her to blush.

“Really? Did she have trouble with magic and the Floo like this one does?” Draco topped off her glass and then poured himself a drink, opting to sip on it as opposed to Lavender’s greed.

“No,” she shook her head and shifted closer in a way that failed to be sly. “Terry caught her stealing some of my Charmed jewellery and chose to dismiss her. We’re allowed to magically bind Muggles to non-disclosure oaths, but the crafty ones still try to find a way around it. Melbourne isn’t like England. We have to be so much more careful here to blend in.” 

Draco ignored the hand brushing against his thigh. “Do you think she'd have any information about the household that might help the police?”

“Unlikely.” Lavender finished her second glass and held out for more. “Alice was a timid thing. She went quietly enough. Probably afraid of being hexed, you know? Not that I ever would.”

“Of course not.” Draco tipped the remains of his own drink into hers and emptied the bottle, too. He used the excuse of setting it on her bedside table to slide out of her clutches and tucked her peach coloured duvet in. “Drink up, Love. I’ll go entertain in your place.”

+++++

“Draco!” Severus called out the moment he walked into the ballroom. His look of approval immediately vanished once the party’s usher helped to remove Draco’s overcoat.

Flamboyant as always, Draco had set aside his usual combination of obscenely fitted trousers and effeminate blouses for a more party-appropriate outfit. Or less appropriate in conservative opinions. 

Draco was wearing a heavily fringed, emerald green dress, trimmed in black. Individual black sapphires had been sewn in, to create delicate paisley patterns that glittered in the light. His long, straight hair had been spelled into platinum curls and pinned to one side, accentuated with a diamond headpiece that was very much in style. The black T-strap heels weren’t out of the ordinary, but they helped turn Severus into an irate shade of red all the same.

Draco made no effort to hide his smirk since it would have been a waste of time for both of them.

“Draco Malfoy,” Severus hissed, closing in on Draco like a dragon hunting its prey. “When I suggested we host for Lavender, that did not include raiding her wardrobe, too.”

“Of course not. Her breasts are far too big for anything to fit me properly.”

“She lost her husband yesterday, keep your fucking voice down,” Severus spit out quietly, dragging Draco by the arm into a corner where less attention would fall their way.

“I wasn’t aware there was an official schedule of when it was polite to discuss the voluptuous tits of widows.”

“Behave like the respectable Wizard you were raised to be, or I will cast the Killing Curse on you myself. Is that clear?”

Draco grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing server’s tray and smiled. “Crystal. Do you think anyone here would want to harm Lavender or Terry?”

Severus’ left eye twitched. “Don't be absurd. You're looking at the cream of Melbourne society… Apart from Clementine Smythe over there. She did have an affair with Terry a few years prior. And Tilda Higginbottom, by the punch, _as usual_. But that one — she takes the snitch,” Severus sneered and subtly nudged his chin in the direction of a waif-like woman who nearly glowed under the ballroom’s chandelier. She was certainly not a mere Muggle. Part Fae maybe. Or Veela. “She practically runs a bordello,” Severus complained and sipped his own alcohol.

Definitely part Veela then. And conveniently heading towards them.

“Hello there, Severus.”

“Madame Fleur,” Severus greeted, his voice notably cool. “May I present my godson, Draco Malfoy. He’s just moved here from England.”

“How do you do?” Draco smiled and gave her a flirtatious curtsy, ignoring the pinch on his side from Severus.

Fleur giggled and fluttered her decorative fan of peacock feathers in return.

Severus ground his teeth audibly. “Madame Fleur has a little establishment at the far end of the city.”

“A Turkish bath palace, Mister Malfoy,” Fleur corrected, leaning in close like they were friends swapping secrets. “We serve both Muggles and Wizards, so there are the proper Concealment Charms in place. No need to worry about your wand.”

“How interesting. I'm a devoted patron of the London Hamam. I find it very relaxing. You should try it, Uncle Severus.”

“No, thank you, Draco.” Severus glared at Fleur over the rim of his glass before finishing it off. “I shall remain all the cleaner for staying away. Excuse me.” He left in his typical melodramatic fashion with a spin on his cane, the long tails of his suit coat fluttering behind him. His Muggle outfits couldn’t compete with formal Wizarding robes, but Severus tried.

And people had the gall to wonder how Draco turned out the way he did.

Draco and Fleur shared a grin at his expense until Draco forced a more neutral expression in its place. “Terrible news about Terry Boot,” he said casually. “I was so looking forward to meeting Lavender’s husband since I missed the wedding some years back.” 

“He was a very charming man. I've been a loyal customer of his for years.”

“What line of business was he in?”

“Importing from Asia primarily. Cosmetics, silks, the most beautiful rugs. He adored Lavender, though he had less time for her endless social events and her more colourful friends.” Fleur divulged. She seemed to love gossip as much as everyone else in this town.

“Like who?” Draco drained his glass and set it on a nearby table. 

“Like the adorable Viktor Krum.” Fleur gestured with her fan.

“Yes… He is quite handsome. And lonely at the moment. If you don’t mind?” Draco smiled and sauntered across the room after Fleur’s wink of approval.

“Monsieur est magnifique.” Viktor kissed Draco’s hand in greeting, eyes roving over his dress and bare legs underneath.

Draco returned his heated gaze, biting his lip until the recognition clicked. “Now I remember where I’ve seen you. You were dancing in Paris five years ago with your sister. At the gala for the French Minister of Magic. It was rather stunning.”

Viktor nodded, more solemn. “My sister, unfortunately, passed away some months ago.”

“My condolences.” 

“I am still unused to dancing without her,” Viktor sighed. “Do you tango, Monsieur Malfoy?” He offered Draco a hand and seemed to perk back up at the opportunity.

“Only if you call me Draco.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Despite the late hour and the party being nearly over, Hermione opened the door when guests came knocking. 

Standing at attention were two of the intimidating Magical police from the previous day’s interviews: Chief Inspector Potter and Constable Weasley.

“Hello,” Potter said, voice rough. “We've been trying to reach Mrs Boot, but something seems to be wrong with your Floo.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Poison?” Lavender gasped. Her hands flew up to cover her cheeks and she swayed in the high-backed wing chair of the receiving parlour.

Draco and Severus glanced at each other but remained quiet. It was… An oddly subdued reaction. 

Harry made a mental note of it, then returned his attention to Lavender.

“The coroner found traces of arsenic when he examined your husband, and your own symptoms seem to be consistent with a milder dose,” he said.

Severus summoned a Calming Draught from the kitchens and uncorked the vial before handing it over to Lavender beside him. “Do you know where it came from?” he asked.

Harry nodded, solemn. “The sugar bowl with the breakfast tray was laced with rat poison.”

Lavender let the empty vial fall to the floor, the Charmed glass cushioned by a thick rug. Her previous cries subsided to a sad pout as the potion worked it’s magic. “Terry always took so much sugar in his tea. Thank Merlin, I didn't finish my own.”

Harry glanced at the doorway at the sound of approaching footsteps. Ron appeared seconds later, helping Hermione with her coat. “We've been informed your housemaid prepares the morning tray.”

Lavender slumped down in her seat and pulled her night robe tighter around herself like a blanket. “That's correct, but… She’s really…”

“We'll need to ask Miss Granger a few questions at the station.”

This seemed to have finally knocked Draco out of his silent perch on the chaise. “You don't seriously suspect this poor child of murder?!” he yelled, quick to his feet and throwing an arm out to gesture towards her. Hermione made a small noise in the hall.

This was quickly going to turn into a theatrical disaster if Harry couldn’t put a lid on it now. 

“Actually, I was studiously avoiding that term, Mr Malfoy,” he said through clenched teeth. It took all he had in him, but Harry resisted rolling his eyes while he joined Ron and Hermione at the door. 

Entirely uninvited, Draco followed along and produced a small business card with the aid of his wand. He held it out for Hermione and met her eyes. “If you find yourself in legal trouble, I know a clever man who might help.”

Hermione glanced at Harry and with his nod of permission, took it and slipped it into her small clutch. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Don’t let them scare you,” Draco said, ignoring Harry and his attempt to clear his throat. There was providing support and then there was overstepping into official police business. From all of Severus’s previous mentions of his returning godson, Harry had expected better behaviour than what he’d seen thus far.

“Good night, Mr Malfoy,” Harry said pointedly, then led Hermione and Ron outside to the Muggle police car.

“I can't imagine what grudge that poor girl might have against us,” Lavender sighed from the parlour. “Terry wasn’t even a Wizard, like me.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Car engines rattled in the distance as the last few Muggle guests took their leave. Viktor and Draco smiled at each other as they strolled down the Boot’s driveway, both aware of Severus’s watchful eyes on the porch.

“I hope we have the pleasure to meet again, Draco,” Viktor said, lifting Draco’s hand for a respectable kiss. 

Draco twisted in the hold and cupped Viktor’s face, leaning in for a heated kiss, Severus be damned. “I'm sure that can be arranged. There’s always space in my calendar for dancing,” he whispered into Viktor’s ear.

“Then I look forward to us moving together again.” Viktor chuckled and stepped back to retrieve his broom. With a nod to Severus, he mounted his ride and cast a Notice-Me-Not Spell, then disappeared into the night.

Draco canceled the Disillusionment Charm on his own broom and rejoined Severus with a wistful sigh. “Now there’s a man I’d like in my bed.”

As expected, Severus ignored Draco’s comment with a pinched frown. “Lavender seems calmer now with my potion. If only this awful poisoning business was resolved, she could busy herself with the wake.”

Draco rolled his eyes, unwilling to stop his sarcastic drawl. “Yes, that could cheer her up. Moving from stage one of her husband’s death to stage two.” A lock of hair had fallen loose and Draco tucked it behind his ear before startling Severus with an angry shout and his dropped broomstick clattering on the steps. “My earring!” The expensive and charmed moonstone that normally pierced his upper helix was gone. “That man was far too charming.”

With flaring nostrils, Draco picked up his broom and straddled it. A flick of his wand clasped all of his coat buttons closed.

Severus’ frown deepened. “Draco, where are you going? We can Floo back to your family’s estate.”

“I'll explain later. Goodnight, Severus.”

“At this hour? It's not safe! This isn’t some Wizarding town in Europe where you can scamper around with your wand out for protection. Why do you think you can just run off on your own? No Muggle of good character is out right now.”

Draco kicked up into the air and hovered, pulling a Muggle revolver out of his coat pocket with a smirk. One more secret to disclose and send Severus into a marvellous snit. “Because I'm carrying a Muggle gun!” With a giddy laugh and a strong Disillusionment Spell, Draco flew higher than the house and took off.

Severus’s huffing and puffing was immediately lost in the wind.

+++++

With the help of a mildly illegal Tracking Spell, Draco found his moonstone earring — and Viktor — in a pharmacy that was open suspiciously late. Draco refreshed his Disillusionment Charm and crouched by a dumpster in the side street. One modified Amplifying Charm later, he would’ve been able to hear the two voices inside — if the building’s wards weren’t so strong. 

_Not your ordinary Muggle place then._

Draco laid his broom against the wall and holstered his wand just as the door opened and Viktor came rushing out. He was followed closely by a pair of dangerous-looking Wizards with their own wands out, hexes and curses glowing red, white, and green as they fired. 

“Shit!”

Draco hopped back onto his broom and kept to the shadows as he joined the chase. Viktor ran in a zigzag pattern to dodge most of the curses and hexes shot at him, the men on his heels never giving him the opportunity to pause and Disapparate. Draco swerved to avoid lampposts and street signs, taking sharp turns around buildings every time the trail twisted down a new alleyway. Several minutes later he followed Viktor down another alley where they managed to hide from the passing Wizards. Draco hit Viktor with an Incarcerous and summoned his moonstone. 

“They’re gone. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call them back.”

Viktor groaned, still bound and laid out on the cobbled street. He wasn’t even trying to put up a fight. “Draco… I thought they missed me but…” Slowly, he rolled over onto his back and into the light of Draco’s Lumos. Two thin streaks of blood showed through his white dress shirt.

“Wonderful. You're not badly hurt.” Draco dropped to his knees and straddled Viktor’s chest, the tip of his wand resting on his throat with undeniable intention. “Now, why did you steal my earring?”

“To pay for cocaine.”

“That's a dangerous habit if you're going to be cursed in the process.”

“You should not assume it is my habit. My reasons were personal, Draco,” Viktor rasped. He bravely kept his eyes on Draco’s, instead of the threatening wand.

“So is my earring. What did you say to the pharmacist? The wards deflected my strongest charm.”

“I asked to meet the King of Snow, the mastermind of the cocaine business in this town. It’s cut with some type of potion.”

Draco tilted his head and dragged his wand across the shape of Viktor’s jaw. “Melbourne has certainly become more interesting in my absence.”

“Life has been hard since we were forced from Bulgaria. Too hard for my sister. She became addicted to cocaine and lost her way. But it wasn’t until we came to Melbourne that she took her own life.”

“How awful.” Draco’s grip on his wand finally relaxed. 

“Lavender was very good to both of us,” Viktor said, his blinking slowing down with every breath.

“But I gather her husband was not a ballet enthusiast.”

“I never cared for Terry Boot.”

Draco hummed and Banished Viktor’s shirt to study the extent of his injuries. 

“You think I was having a love affair with your friend? It is not true. She's too demure for my attention.” Viktor shivered under Draco’s wand, a gentle healing spell closed three of his four wounds after the bonds of the incarcerous spell were lifted. “Whereas you…” 

Draco’s wand traveled up the length of his throat, his chin, his bottom lip until Viktor let the tip of the hawthorn slide into his mouth.Draco holstered his wand then summoned his broom and slid one arm under Viktor’s body to bring them close. 

“I have a healing potion you need.” With a devious smile, Draco held Viktor tight and apparated them to his hotel.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione took a deep breath. 

The past twelve hours had been been a whirlwind.

No, the past week had been a whirlwind.

For the entire last month, Hermione had suffered from being caught up in the biggest whirlwind she had ever known.

Magic. Magic? Magic! 

It was a real thing! Mrs Boot made her sign a magically (magic!) binding oath of secrecy. She could never discuss the existence of magic with another person (Muggles?) ever. Only with other Witches and Wizards. (Witches and Wizards! Were real. They had magic. Used magic. Harnessed wild magic of the earth?)

Hermione still didn’t understand most of it, and Mrs Boot kept all of her magical books (explaining magic!) locked away in a trunk. With magic.

So her plans of leaving her parents’ home in Perth and moving to Melbourne to study law had hit a bump in the road. Despite her grades and all efforts during enrollment, she was told there wasn’t room for her this year.

Too many men had applied.

Moving back home (accepting defeat) was not an option. So she began looking for a job with room and board. Soon, she stumbled upon Alice at a bakery and was quickly referred to and interviewed and then hired by Mrs Boot.

A Witch. With magic. Sometimes magic came out of Mrs Boot’s wand and it was red. Sometimes not. Hermione had seen five separate colours thus far. They weren’t dictated by emotion from what she could tell. Maybe the magic’s class of difficulty?

Her husband was normal (a Muggle); he didn’t have magic but seemed to be fine with it filling up space in his home and life, like a green haze or fog. 

Until the other day when he collapsed and died. 

By poison, so say the police. _But what if it was magic?_

They actually had the nerve to think Hermione was the one who did it. For all that Mr Boot was an inappropriately tactile cad of a man, Hermione had no wish for him to die.

_Murderers weren’t allowed into law school._

Mr Malfoy said he knew a clever man that could help her. Hermione truly hoped so.She was homeless, jobless and now a murder suspect. She couldn’t even go back home now, because Constable Weasley had kindly asked her to remain in Melbourne until the case had settled. 

Hermione set her suitcase down and studied the small business card that had been given to her. (Produced with magic!)It had this hotel name and address, the room number that matched the door she was standing in front of. Mr Malfoy’s name was written in an elegant script. There was also the outline of a mouth in what smelled like lipstick but well. Surely Mr Malfoy wouldn’t… Who was she kidding? Mr Malfoy showed up to a fundraiser for the Melbourne hospital in a dress with a scandalous hemline and heels higher than any decent person of character. Of course, Mr Malfoy would kiss his business cards.

Well, he was willing to offer help when no one else was. He had shown kindness. The man was certainly eccentric, but kind. She really needed a friend right now.

Hermione took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Entering the conscious world with a groan, Draco stretched his limbs across the space of his mattress and burrowed his face further into his pillow. His leg brushed against a portion of sheets that held leftover warmth from a recently vacated body.

_A bloody fit body._

He could still feel the unevenly healed scratches on his chest from Viktor’s exuberant riding skills. Those hips could keep time like few others. 

Draco turned his head and slowly opened his eyes, thick curtains keeping most of the new day’s light out. His moonstone earring glittered on the bedside table beside his wand.

“A gentleman after all,” he murmured, toes curling in comfort. 

He didn’t have any early plans. No reason he couldn’t go back to sleep for a while… Once he got rid of that incessant knocking. Merlin. That Witch on staff had been strictly advised to leave his breakfast tray outside the door under a stasis charm. There was no need to wake him up. Unless some Muggle was working this morning.

Decision made, he flipped back the sheet and rose, wrapping a silk robe around his nude frame before opening the door with his wand loose in hand.

“Oh, Miss Granger?”

“Hello, Mr Malfoy.” Hermione smiled with teary eyes and a stubborn set to her shoulders. “I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, but Mrs Boot has dismissed me, and I don’t have any other place to go. I need help from that clever man you mentioned.”

“Lucky for you, he’s awake. You’d better come in.” Draco swished his wand so the breakfast cart would roll in behind Hermione, the door shutting itself close. Manual labour should never be practised before tea. 

He passed Hermione and sprawled on a chaise, levitating his toast and tea once comfortable. “Do sit down and help yourself, I won’t eat everything. Have to watch my figure, you know? I’m not twenty anymore,” Draco said, breaking the ice with a maudlin rant about failing metabolisms. 

“I think you look quite alright,” Hermione said, slow to follow instructions. She did eventually butter a piece of toast and take a seat on the opposite sofa, after moving a stray heel. “Uhm, the matching T-strap is up there, Sir. If you were looking for it.” Hermione pointed to the top shelf of a large wardrobe that helped to separate the sitting area from the bedroom. She flushed and added milk to her tea.

“Thank you. Viktor Krum is an exceptionally talented dancer. Very acrobatic.”

Hermione choked on a bite of her toast.

Draco decided she was adorable.

“Well, let us see what we can do to help your situation. Tell me what happened down at the station.”

“The police asked me so many questions about Mr Boot. About what kind of gentleman he was, what kind of boss. How he treated the household staff.”

He had figured as much. “And what did you tell them?”

“Well, I couldn't lie. It would impede the investigation. I said he was all hands and tried to pin me against the oven and have his way in the kitchen the night before he died. I told them how he did the same to Alice before she asked to leave and took her reference to go work for Mr Snape. Mrs Boot wasn’t happy about that.”

Draco sighed heavily then licked a spot of blackberry jam off his thumb. “That Mr Boot tried to assault her maids?”

“No. Yes. Well, maybe. They never argued about it in front of me,” Hermione said. “I can’t be sure.”

“What wasn’t she happy about then? Alice leaving?”

Hermione perked up at the correct guess. “Yes. Oh, Mrs Boot has been on about it the entire last two weeks. She complains that Alice handled the company of magic better than I do. Which isn’t true. Alice ignored it. I’m trying to understand magic, but Mrs Boot won’t teach me. She even keeps her books locked away in one of the upstairs offices in a trunk. I’m not allowed to clean in there anymore. She claims I broke in, but the one time I opened it, it really was unlocked. It seemed like it was stuck for a few seconds, but then it opened easily. I was probably turning it the wrong way.” She nodded, brushing her hair out of her face.

Draco tilted his head to study Hermione and ignored his tea as it began to cool. “Does that happen to you often, Hermione? A… Change of luck, perhaps? Maybe odd things are happening around you? Sometimes, they work in your favour; other times they make no sense. Why sometimes, they may not even seem physically possible. Those occurrences are most frequent when you’re under extreme emotional duress?”

All of the colour drained from Hermione’s face as she set her teacup down with unsteady hands, the porcelain clinking harshly against the oak of the coffee table. “How do you know any of that?” she asked, voice low and raspy.

“I saw you that first day at Lavender’s,” Draco said, trying to inject a sense of calm into the scene. If what he thought was true, now was not the time to spook her. “When I came down the stairs and you dropped the figurine you were cleaning, the glass broke. Then it repaired itself.”

“That’s not what happened, I dropped it, it slipped out of my hand but it was fine. It—Mr. Boot imports these very thick rugs, they’re all over the house. I know what it—”

Draco interrupted her. “—Hermione. I saw it break on the ground. And then I saw all the splintered pieces come back together, good as new. Like magic.”

“Yes, but Mrs Boot has magic. She’s a Witch. You know this! She has magic, just like you and Mr Snape; I’ve seen you. You both have wands, but I haven’t told anyone. I didn’t even tell the police and some of them have wands, too. Hidden in their sleeves. How is that? Wouldn’t it slip out? And how can—”

“Hermione,” Draco said, leaning forward to place a hand over hers, where it had been shaking on the table by her tea, effectively shutting her up. “One thing at a time. I will answer any question you have about magic. I promise. I believe you need to know, but first, I want to delve into why I think it is you deserve to know. The glass figurine.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “You’re correct, Sir. It did shatter on impact. I don’t know why the damage was reversed. I just didn’t want anyone to see, so I picked it up quickly and went back to cleaning before anyone noticed. I’m really sorry,” she said, eyes beginning to tear up. “Please don’t change your mind about telling me. It belonged to Mrs Boot, maybe it was magical glass and that’s why it fixed itself.”

Draco chuckled and shook his head. “It doesn’t quite work that way. There aren’t any currently developed spells to provide that result. If any spell or charm fell under the umbrella of unbreakable — the glass wouldn’t have shattered at all. You can, however, cast a Reparo or other mending charm. There are spells — some attuned to specific needs or materials — but they all have to be cast by a witch or Wizard. Or wished into existence with accidental magic by a young child who hasn’t fully grown into their magic enough to control it with a wand.”

Draco leaned forward and pressed a finger to Hermione’s lips when they parted, cutting off her speech, to allow a moment for this to sink in fully.

“And sometimes… Those children won’t have Witches or Wizards for parents. No one is around to explain what is happening. They’re what the magical folks call Muggle-borns. A magical child, born to Muggles. Not all Wizards like these types of people. They don’t always want them around. They don’t want them going to a magical school and being taught alongside their pure-blood or half-blood children. It isn’t right. It’s a bigoted way of thinking. There are congregations of Wizards all over the world, in cities and countries. Some are more accepting and allow the Muggle-borns into our society. Here in Melbourne, Perth, Sydney and around… They aren’t like that.”

Draco offered Hermione a sad smile. “There are ways to divine when a Muggle-born child may come into their magic. In England, those children are sent letters on their eleventh birthdays. To inform and prepare them for Hogwarts, the magical boarding school I attended. I was born there originally, despite spending most of my childhood here, I knew I would return there for school. Australia only has one school. A day program in Sydney.”

Draco clasped his hands around both of Hermione’s smaller ones and held her gaze. Giving her time to accept what they both knew he was about to say. “Hermione,”

The teacups began to rattle.

“No, you don’t understand—”

“Hermione. If they accepted Muggle-born children here… I believe you would have received a letter.”

“I can’t perform magic.” Hermione insisted. “I haven’t been taught.”

Draco felt giddy with excitement. His leg bounced up and down. A grin spread to the corners of his mouth. “That’s why I’m going to teach you.” He laughed and raised a hand. “Accio first wand!”

Hermione pulled back, startled, as a smaller wand came flying out of a bag nestled in the corner of the room. 

“Here you go.” Draco casually handed the nine-inch wand over. “Ivy wood, kelpie hair core, not too powerful. This was my wand as a small child. You can practice with this one and learn the motions before we go buy you your own wand. Let me find my books.” Draco stood up and ignored Hermione’s attempt to grab his arm when he passed by. 

“Lucky for you I keep all of my books, there are notes written in the margins, too. It should be very helpful,” Draco said, a running commentary while he opened various boxes and luggage. He cancelled and recast shrinking charms on packages with his own Hawthorne wand systematically until he found his school materials.

When he turned around, Hermione’s mouth was hung open wide enough a troll’s foot could almost fit. He snorted and levitated the correct trunk behind him, back to his seat.

“I do hope you like reading, you’re about to be very busy.”

+++++

Draco’s bare feet slapped noisily on the humid tile floor of Fleur’s Turkish bath palace as he walked the length of the main pool room. With skin flushed a deep pink and a silk robe cinched around his waist, he joined Lavender in one corner on a thin bamboo mat. His knees clicked when he sat down and a sluggish groan crawled out of his lungs. He might have overstayed his sauna visit.

“Thank you for badgering me to leave the house, Draco. I feel so relaxed here,” Lavender said. She wore a similar robe with her hair piled on top of her head and wrapped in a towel. Her skin glowed in the room’s low light, blushed cheeks dewy from her facial.

“Yes, it’s quite lovely here. It's hardly the bordello Severus fears,” Draco huffed out soft laughter. He dipped his head in a respectful bow when a nude maid brought them a tea tray, an appreciative smile sliding into place as he watched her leave.

“You’d be correct. They’re only here for decoration, Draco.” Lavender arched a newly plucked brow. “Behave. Madame Fleur has been one of Terry's best customers for ages.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” he promised. “I’m simply admiring the decor.” Draco abandoned all mischievousness and combed his fingers through his hair, pushing the damp, messy strands away from his face. “Lavender... How much did you know about your husband's business dealings?”

Lavender sighed and adjusted the heat wrap along her neck. “Not nearly enough. You know I've never had a head for figures or much else from school, outside of divination. I may have to take over the reins all the same.”

Draco hummed and stretched out his legs from their crossed position. He could almost dip his toes in the warm water. “Do you think the attempt on your lives could have something to do with retaliation after a falling out with a disgruntled customer?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Could Terry have gotten mixed up in some sketchy business dealings you weren't aware of? 

Lavender frowned sharply at Draco and crossed her arms, the week’s tension returning like the flip of a switch. “I loved Terry, Draco. Despite his flaws, I loved him dearly. His death has left me bereft and alone. I'm not ready yet to pick over his bones like a scavenging mutt.” 

“Of course not,” Draco soothed. “Forgive me.” He poured two cups of chamomile from the kettle, then followed with cream and sugar.

“No sugar, just black for me.”

“Of course.” Draco stirred his own tea and took a sip, his gaze moving to rest on the gentle ripples of the water.

+++++

“You know at this rate, we’re going to become functioning alcoholics,” Pansy said as she let Draco into her third floor flat. She pointedly glanced at the brown paper bag nestled under his arm.

“Shove off. I don’t always have firewhisky on hand.” Draco made himself comfortable in a Victorian lounge with intricately carved wooden legs, only to mutter and squabble with Pansy when she sat on his feet.

“Look,” he said, pulling out a small cardboard box, the same rosy shade of pink from the other day. “I snuck into Madame Fleur’s office when she and Lavender went into the women’s spa room. It's packaged exactly the same way as the Primwood's Powders I souvenired from Lavender's bathroom, but there’s no label on the front.”

Pansy took the box and opened it up, peering at the rows of delicate satchels inside before pulling one out. She tore the corner and poured a small mound into the palm of her hand to sniff and then taste. A quiet incantation and swirl of her wand let the diagnostic spell confirm it wasn’t Wizard made. Entirely. “The pink's only a vegetable dye with a nerve powder. It's most likely a narcotic base, like opium, or a stimulant, like cocaine.”

Draco frowned and pinched some off, squinting at the fine powder. “Is it legal like that?”

Pansy snorted exaggeratedly and tucked her wand back into her tweed suit jacket. “In this country? You would need a doctor's prescription. And not a very reputable one at that, if it’s for unbranded shit like this. It’s not from any Australian supplier, or I would’ve been able to identify their compound signature.”

“If Madame Fleur's using it to pay off unsavoury types, then my bet is cocaine.” Draco said, finally licking up the tiny amount from his thumb. “Definitely cocaine.”

Pansy smirked and doled herself out another serving. “I'm the doctor, Draco. I need to be the judge of that.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione licked the tip of her finger and turned a page in the voluminous textbook she was currently lost in. She didn’t notice Draco had returned until he spread a blanket over her legs, taking care to tuck it under her socked feet on the sofa.

“For the lady.” Draco passed over a warm mug of hot cocoa with a smile. “How has studying gone?”

Hermione forced herself to take a deep, grounding breath, instead of rattling off every single thing she had learned today. Until she had better control of her magic, it was best if she could avoid being uncontrollably excited. 

Her magic.

“Well. This has been the most overwhelming day of my entire life. Not as terrible as being a murder suspect. However, it’s still very taxing on the mind.” She lifted the steaming drink and blew on it before taking a sip. “The cocoa helps. Thank you, Sir.”

“Draco,” he reminded her. “I’m happy to hear that, Hermione. I’ll be needing you to stay brave and adventurous a little while longer.”

Hermione didn’t like the sound of that. She was only halfway through the book of magical theory. “Why?”

Draco laughed and sent her an odd look as he lifted his cloak from the rack. “You’ll be plenty safe here, reading I assume. However, if I don’t return by midnight, you’ll need to call the magical police you’ve spoken to.”

Hermione glanced at the innocuous fireplace with trepidation. “On the Floo?”

“No…” Draco raised a brow and tucked his pearl grip revolver away. “On the telephone. This hotel isn’t hooked up to the Floo network. But don’t worry, the house I’m buying will be.” When he swished his wand all the buttons on his cloak closed neatly. “Midnight, Hermione. Watch the time!”

And he was off with a loud crack. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Some people might argue that Draco didn’t have very good ideas. That was a lie. Draco had _fantastic_ ideas, however, due to mankind having free will, the planning and execution of those ideas didn’t always pan out. 

Draco bent over and placed his hands on his knees, panting for breath, while Vince did the same. They were both hiding in the shadows, several storefronts down from Madame Fleur’s. There had been a small miscalculation when trying to disable the wards and sneak in, which had coincided terribly with Viktor trying to Apparate inside. Apparently, there were night guards. 

“So plan B, then?” Vince joked, rubbing his left side where a bruise would no doubt form. 

Draco winced in sympathy. “Plan C, more like. I’ll need you to go down to the police station and talk to Inspector Potter. I’m afraid I’ll need back-up to save Viktor.”

“Your boyfriend better be fucking worth it. Those Auror types are arseholes, ya know? Thinking they’re better than everyone, lording over Wizards, Squibs, and Muggles alike. Too much power for one group.”

“Do it for me?” Draco asked sweetly. He had to cut Vince off or they’d be here all night talking politics. “Give me a leg up? The wards aren’t as strong on the second floor. I’ll break in through the stained glass windows.”

“Pansy’s right. You’re an idiot,” Vince said with a shake of his head, giving Draco a boost upon his shoulders.

“Mother says I’m unique,” Draco sniffed, casting a modified Sticking Charm to his fingertips to help scale the wall. Up and over was the plan. Perhaps a hasty disillusionment charm should have been cast first, but his wand was now clenched between his teeth while he climbed.

He’d save that idea for his next break-in.

“Careful, Mate!” Vince warned prior to running off.

No worries. Draco had this rescue mission under control.

+++++

Draco _did not_ have this rescue mission under control.

Retrieving Viktor and spying on Madame Fleur’s late-night meeting had been the original plan. Well, the original plan C. Instead, he had been disarmed, stripped, and locked in a sauna with Viktor, who had undergone the same pitiful fate. At least Draco had something nice to look at while imprisoned in such humidity. 

“He knows nothing! Let him go and do with me what you like!” Viktor shouted for the fifth time in a row, his fists banging a tired rhythm on a door they couldn’t open physically or magically. On the bright side, his towel was making a valiant effort to come loose from his waist. “I paid to meet with your king!”

Draco converted his low ponytail into a top knot to help with the sweat dripping down his neck. “And what will you do in this meeting with the Snow King?”

“Kill him,” Viktor promised, turning to rest his back against the door and breathe.

“Unless somebody’s already beaten you to it,” Draco muttered.

“What do you mean?”

“The drugs are coming in through TB Imports, Terry Boot’s company? The dead husband.”

Viktor’s upper lip curled into a snarl. “So those _bastards_ ,” he groaned, cut short by a Stinging Hex to the back that caused him to crumble to the ground when the door opened.

“Lavender.” Draco wasn’t surprised in the least, but it appeared Viktor was. 

“They told me you had a floozy. I didn’t think it would be you.”

“But how?” Viktor asked.

Draco crossed his arms and met Lavender’s gaze without fear. The two armed Wizards behind her were the real issue. “Lavender poisoned her husband after he tried to seduce her maid.”

“It wasn’t _just_ his philandering.”

“Of course, not. I know you better than that,” Draco reminded her. “And Madame Fleur sorted out your Muggle poisoning like she sorted all your other shady business.”

“You helped us.” Viktor sounded betrayed. “We danced for all of your friends.”

“Why would you kill the smokescreen? Terry was a perfect front.” Draco leaned forward to help Viktor sit up. 

Lavender stomped her foot and threw her hands up in a fit, finally looking like the girl she was in every childhood memory Draco had. “Not all of us did so well after the war, Draco! You inherited a title, and your family only got richer, but my family lost everything!” She tugged on the end of her fur cloak with a noise of frustration. “Then I met Terry. He was wealthy and charming. Far too charming. In the end, a hopeless businessman, an utter embarrassment, and all of that on top of being a _Muggle_ ,” she spat out. Like the word was unclean and needed to be purged.

“I rescued us from bankruptcy and disgrace, Draco. I built an empire for us, and all I wanted was my old life back in Wizarding society, but Terry wouldn’t let me have it. Judge me, if you like. While you ran about with Daddy’s fortune, I saved myself.”

“What a shame it took a life of crime for you to find your strength, Lavender,” Draco drawled, weak from the heat and unable to pull Viktor all the way up to the bench seat. Viktor himself was finally slumping over to one side.

“Haven’t you become as self-righteous as your bloody parents. Your demise will fix that. Goodbye, Draco.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Harry massaged his temples. He had his final case form to fill out and Vincent Crabbe wouldn’t stop yelling long enough to let him do it. “I’m telling you. Draco Malfoy needs you down at the Turkish Baths on Lionsdale Avenue!”

Honestly, of all the uncouth ways to attempt a rendezvous. “Well, I hope Mr Malfoy is comfortable. He’ll be waiting for a very long time.”

“I’m not lying! He went in after this other bloke—”

“Inspector!” Ron shouted, drowning out Vincent temporarily . “It’s Miss Granger on the telephone. She said Mr Malfoy is in trouble.”

_Oh, Salazar._

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Viktor. Viktor, please don’t fall asleep.” Draco had to get them out of here. Accioing his wand hadn’t worked earlier. Madame Fleur was right about the damn charms in this place. If only he could see better through the fog. Someone had raised the temperature a significant amount since Lavender’s visit.

“If the steam is piped in, we just need to pipe it out again,” he muttered to himself. This would be easier with a wand of course, but Draco crawled around the floor to find the vent manually. Desperate times and all.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Okay, you four take the front and side entrances. I’ll take the rear with Weasley and Bones. Let’s go,” Harry ordered, his wand drawn.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Viktor, please wake up. I fixed it. _Please, Viktor_ ,” Draco begged. He was down on his own knees beside him, shaking fruitlessly until the door burst open and the most handsome vision Draco had ever seen came swanning in. “Glad you could make it, Inspector,” he smirked. _Time to make his last breath count for something_. “I’m a little more steamed up than I wanted to be.”

+++++

Draco slowly opened his eyes, his head sore from the full force of late morning night shining through his windows. Leaving the curtains open after the night he’d had was a cruel repayment.

“Tell me how clever you are.” Pansy was perched on the window seat with her tea and one of Kreacher’s croissants. She’d probably been watching Draco sleep this whole time without a lick of shame. Draco groaned and wiped the corners of his eyes.

“Name one person who wants _you_ to be the first thing they see in the morning,” he complained, slouching down in his black silk sheets.

“Every cunt I’ve ever pleasured. Really now, what made you think Lavender Boot was the murderer? I’m full of curiosity.”

“You’re full of shit and bad manners. Stop spraying crumbs on my cushions.”

“I’m keeping your elf busy. Tell me.”

Draco sighed the sigh of the worn and weary. Then, he pushed himself up and levitated _his_ breakfast tray over. Gossiping on an empty stomach was never easy.

“Well, first of all, she kept declaring her… Insanely devoted love for Terry, when we all knew he was a cad. Now, you could put that down to martial delusion, I suppose. Then she protested that she had no brains for business. Which was incorrect, she raised thousands of pounds and hundreds of galleons for the hospital fund. Wizarding and Muggle!”

Draco spread a nauseating amount of sweet blackberry preserves on his toast.

“I tried to put that down as false modesty until I remembered this was Lavender Brown. Er, Boot.” He waved his hand and took a massive bite, immediately banishing his own crumbs because he wasn’t raised in a cave like Pansy. “Of course, the other suspects certainly helped. There was Madame Fleur, but she was too obvious. And she pointed the finger at the very dashing Viktor Krum, so I was forced to discount him as Lavender’s jealous lover with my own… thorough investigation…” Draco trailed off, a dreamy look on his face as he remembered that night. His pink toes curled under the blanket.

“Draco,” Pansy said with a snap of her fingers, a mild Jinx catching him right on the nipple because she was _evil_.

“I’m sorry, _Merlin_. Where was I? Oh, the tea!” Draco nearly knocked over his own cup in excitement. “That’s what really bothered me. She drank just enough sweetened tea to remove suspicion, poisoning herself, when I know she always took her tea without sugar.”

“Well, we can’t all have your sweet tooth.” Pansy wrinkled her nose.

+++++

The restaurant’s dining room was comfortably loud, the dulcet sounds of jazz never overpowering any conversations happening at the dozen tables equally spaced apart. The taste of chicken parmigiana was rich in the air and heavy on Draco’s tongue, complemented by the wine he had ordered for the group of five.

Vince was in the middle of telling his latest story about surviving the alley by Madame Fleur’s. Greg was hanging onto his every word while Pansy rolled her eyes between interruptions.

“Mr Malfoy—” Hermione began.

“Draco,” he corrected once more, carelessly waving his fork and causing tiny splatters of sauce to land on the table cloth.

“Draco,” she said with a small huff. “About this job. I don’t know what my parents will think of your… Guns and knives and wands and… _Dancing_.” Hermione kept a steady eye on her plate. She probably thought she was being polite.

Draco laughed. “Considering your last employers were a murdering drug baroness and an adulterous rapist, surely they’d find me to be a modest improvement.”

“I don’t think I’d ever use modest in the same sentence as you,” Pansy smirked.

“You truly spoil me with these sweet nothings.” Draco raised his wine glass in a sarcastic salute, eyes brightening when his new favourite pair of uniforms walked up. “Inspector Potter and Constable Weasley, what a lovely surprise!”

Even while seeming vaguely constipated, Inspector Potter was one of the finest specimens on the continent. “Hello, Mr Malfoy.” He stepped forward with stiff movements and held out a sequined clutch with a pearl snap closure. “Your… handbag. When you’re fully hydrated, I’d like a private word.”

“Thank you, Inspector.” Draco popped open the clutch to ensure his gun was tucked away safely. Satisfied, he set it on the table and leaned back in his seat. “That’s not necessary. Feel free to discuss any matter amongst my private friends. We’re celebrating. Please join us.”

Weasley grinned and pilfered a thick slice of garlic toast. “Cheers.”

Harry’s nostrils flared. “Five minutes after your timely escape from the Turkish Bath Palace, the steam room exploded in a ball of flames due to a back-up in the pipes, resulting in an inferno attended by every fire truck in the metropolitan area, both Muggle and magical,” he lectured, quiet, and stern in equal measures. “Luckily, there were no fatalities.”

Draco took a small sip of wine and blinked coquettishly. “One less bordello?”

“This is not a game, Mr Malfoy.” Harry said, stepping close enough for the scent of his cologne to drift into Draco’s senses. 

“Of course not.” Draco couldn’t help letting his eyes trail over the polished buttons of Harry’s uniform dress jacket, bold bronze against navy blue. “Now,” he coughed. “Raise a glass to my new business,” he insisted, gesturing for Greg to fill two extra glasses and pass them over.

“Great timing, we’re just off shift,” Ron said.

“What kind of business?” Harry asked as if there were a need to be suspicious. 

Pansy smiled wider than the Seeker who caught the Snitch. “To my oldest, dearest friend. Long live his newest enterprise. May I introduce to you, The Honourable Mr Malfoy, private detective!”

Harry and Ron choked on their wine in sync.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione had learned a plethora of things about Draco Malfoy over the past few weeks. Including a few that she wishes she could Obliviate from memory. With all of this knowledge, it shouldn’t surprise her that they find themselves in this latest predicament, and yet — here they were.

On a train out of the city, travelling Muggle style to pick up Draco’s new Muggle fixation. A racing car. And of course, they ride on the one train where a woman dies. _‘She was murdered, Hermione. I know it, we just have to prove it.’_ Only Draco Malfoy could insult the victim’s grieving daughter and charm her in the same breath. While interfering with local law enforcement to the extent that Inspector Potter is called in from Melbourne to lead the investigation. 

If Draco hadn’t broken down one evening and told her his history with the city, about _Theo_ — well — she would have put her foot down about smuggling the stowaway child out of the police’ private carriage. Teddy _had_ been found with the dead woman’s abundance of jewellery after all. _Teddy. Eleven years old, bright blue eyes, lost and alone._

Hermione had learned so much in such a short amount of time. She couldn’t wait until she learned how to manage Draco and his penchant for trouble.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

“You can’t stop me from conversing with Hannah,” Draco said. He threw in a haughty laugh and hip swivel for good measure. Inspector Potter needed to learn that a Malfoy was not easily cowed.

“Yes, I can. She’s the victim’s daughter, and I will not have you meddling with another one of my cases.” Potter was looming again, in his Muggle trench coat and dapper hat today, but the scare tactic was sufficiently ruined when Draco could only find it sexy. Not that he planned on sharing this information. There wasn’t anything in the world like being _loomed on_ in a narrow train corridor.

Draco decided to risk wrinkling the material of his sheer, Georgette blouse and slumped back on the panelled wall. Then he could look up at Potter from beneath his lashes. _Hubris is always received better when you’re pretty._ “That’s where you have your wires crossed, Inspector. It’s also _my_ case. She hired me.”

A delicious little furrow appeared on Potter’s brow. Draco wanted to soothe it with his thumb. 

“Why on Morgana’s green earth, would she do that for?” _Tetchy._

Draco gave up on posing and poked Potter straight in his chiselled chest. “She obviously recognizes my considerable talents.”

“Self-styled and completely untrained—”

“When you’re both finished here…” Weasley cut in. His eyes pointedly dropped to Potter’s hand that had found itself curled over Draco’s fingers before he coughed. “Mr Malfoy, there’s a delivery truck parked beside us. They said they have something for you.”

“Right.”

“Wonderful.”

They both pulled away and smoothed their clothes down as if Weasley hadn’t just caught them looking… compromised. 

“I’ll just check on—”

“Let me grab Hermione—”

Draco and Inspector Potter participated in a side to side shuffle game, until Potter did the gentlemanly thing and stayed fucking still so Draco could walk pass.

“I wouldn’t worry about any more interference, by the way,” Draco called out before pulling the train car door closed.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Harry didn’t like the sound of that. It gave him the distinct feeling that Mr Malfoy was up to something.

“Want me to pretend that didn’t happen, boss?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about it. Nothing was happening at all, besides Mr Malfoy sticking his pointy nose into things that don’t concern him.”

“Right,” Ron muttered, his lips twitching, “pretending then. Well, we have a small problem.”

Harry continued to frown at the door Malfoy had passed through. “Well? Out with it.”

Despite the tight corners, Ron seemed to find the space to take a step back. “It seems we lost the child. The tiny thief. Our magical handcuffs are strapped on a pair of apples now.”

_“Malfoy.”_

+++++

Returning to their private car was a waste of time. The cuffed apples were still sitting on the bench, mocking the rule of law. Harry’s hand clenched on the pocket door’s frame.

Malfoy didn’t need to yell, to capture their attention. The window was wide open.

“Isn’t she glorious, Inspector?” Malfoy was standing on the driver’s seat of a beautiful Hispano-Suiza H6, with the top down and body painted a delightful periwinkle blue.

“When the tow truck driver said he had a delivery, I honestly thought he meant a small box in his cab.” At least Ron sounded a smidgen more apologetic than outright impressed. Of course, that didn’t help their situation at all. Hannah and Teddy were still seated in the back seat of Malfoy’s new car, while Hermione discreetly charmed their luggage strapped to the boot of the car. Then, she too climbed aboard. Malfoy was on a mission to corrupt every innocent soul in this town, so it seemed.

Harry felt a vein in his forehead throb with aggravation.

“They say the top speed is eighty-five miles per hour, but I’m sure we can do better than that!” Malfoy cheerfully smacked the car’s door then slid into his seat, revving the engine a ridiculous amount before taking off at such a speed, Harry’s stomach lurched in sympathy. The sheer disbelief that this was actually happening left him physically frozen in place.

“Ron, is it possible that Mr Malfoy has just kidnapped the victim’s daughter and one of our best suspects?”

Ron gulped and sadly watched the car shrink in size until it disappeared into the sunset. “It is now, Sir.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Inconvenient in the face of Draco’s efforts, the murderer had stayed on the train and the case had been solved by Inspector Potter. The expensive jewellery had been dumped completely by accident and was nothing but a mere jackpot for Teddy to stumble across in his search for food to swipe. After a thorough investigation and a subsequent apology, Potter had been kind enough to write the mishap off in favour of extenuating circumstances. Teddy had illegally stowed himself away on the train as an escape route from the abusive foster home he had been placed in at the tender age of two after he lost both parents to the war.

Five busy days had witnessed all of this, in addition to Draco purchasing a two-story Victorian home a short walk from the beach. The house had plenty of space for Draco, Hermione, his new butler Blaise, and now Teddy — if child services approved.

The legal conversation and formalities were currently being discussed in one of the many tea parlours of Melbourne’s Malfoy Manor, where Severus continued to live — free of _‘the unnecessary antics and questionable decisions of others’_. Draco privately thought the boring, old estate deserved a boring, old head of household. _Privately._

Even still, surely the process had no reason to be drawn out this long. The group waiting for the news of Draco’s potential guardianship had polished off a three-course lunch in the solarium. By now, they had moved to the silver lounge, their second kettle had been served and the very last possibilities of small talk had been exhausted.

Severus, Draco, Hermione, Vince, Greg, Potter, and Weasley were all silent and sipping on tea in a circle of tastefully arranged furniture. Waiting patiently, per Severus.

Draco was not fond of being patient under orders.

Draco was fucking bored.

“This reminds me of the first time I asked Severus to have sex with me.”

The collective sound of six people choking on their tea was positively disgusting, but also a perverse sort of music to Draco’s ears. However, reining in his urge to smile and kick his feet in a giddy fashion was torture.

“It was also a rainy day in July,” he said casually to Hermione as if they were having a private chat.

Poor Weasley grimaced and set down the coffeecake he’d been eating.

Potter glared at his teacup until the handle chipped, the crack of porcelain a loud echo in the awkward silence. “The _first_ time?”

Draco added another spoonful of sugar to his tea. “Yes, well, I was severely underage at the time, so it’s understandable that he turned me down.”

“But only the first time?” Greg asked.

“Enough!” Severus slammed his own cup down and stood from his seat, his withering gaze locked firmly on Draco. “I will check with the solicitors,” he said with disdain. Then he left the room in a flurry of billowing black robes.

“Must you find the most egregious solution to all of your problems?” Hermione asked, pinching Draco’s side. “Honestly!”

+++++

+++++

+++++

Severus swore that Neville Longbottom was the best Herbologist in the Southern Hemisphere, in addition to being his preferred supplier for potion ingredients.

Draco understood this. He understood the importance of the case, of clearing Neville’s name and his… plant. Of Murder.

But Draco was struggling to think past — well… _Thighs._

Neville Longbottom had ridiculously thick, muscular thighs, carved from marble and coated with a healthy layer of never skipping his desserts. When he rose up from a squat, his arse jiggled.

_Thighs._

Draco wanted to hold onto them for dear life while getting _absolutely_ —

“—Malfoy?”

Draco blinked. Severus, Hermione, and Neville were all looking at him, waiting on his answer to….

_Shit._

“Perhaps,” he hedged.

“Perhaps you’d like some tea?” Severus asked, deadpan.

Hermione closed her eyes and started mouthing words. Probably a prayer for Draco’s heathen soul.

Neville looked unsure at first. “Like I was saying… I grow the leaves myself, but I promise it’s very good. One of my top sellers in the shop, actually.” He straightened up and crossed his shapely arms over the broadest chest Draco has ever fantasized about, bar the inspector. “I have yet to hear any complaints.”

_Shit. Now, his quiet confidence was back._

“Yes, please,” Draco said faintly.

Neville opened his mouth, then promptly shut it. He may have expected more of a fight.

“I’ll go prepare a kettle then. The police are sending Aurors, and they should be here soon. Tea all around. Cheers.” Neville smiled and turned to exit the greenhouse.

_Draco hated to see him go but loved watching him leave._

“Do take care and wipe the drool from your face, Draco. Yearning is unbecoming on a Malfoy.” Severus had obviously never desired anyone in his life. How sad.

All the better for Draco. Today he was being treated to Neville and Inspector—

“Potter! The police! You called the police, Severus?”

Severus developed a pinched frown, the kind that promised a swot on the head later. “We were in the shop’s storeroom for only ten minutes and then, when we returned, one of Neville’s two rare Dragondrakes was missing and there was a random, dead Wizard lying in front of the other. Of course, we called the bloody police, _you imbecile_. I will not risk my professional consulting relationship with them to indulge your need for fun and games.”

Hermione glanced between the unobstructed view of one glass pane and Draco. “Sir—”

“Yes, fine, that’s reasonable.” Draco waved his hand dismissively. “But you sent me a Patronus, first. Right?”

Severus glared down his large nose at Draco. “No, I did not. You’re exceptionally quick on your broom.”

“Draco,” Hermione tried once more.

“I appreciate the flattery, Severus, but what’s the point in Neville hiring me if you’re going to let the police trod all over my crime scene first?”

“The dead Wizard is not your concern! You are to help locate his missing Dragondrake. It’s a very valuable—”

“Yes, but the thief more than likely had something to do with the murder so I’ll need to solve that, too. Plus, murder is so much more exciting, don’t you think?”

“Draco, the Inspector can _see us_!”

Draco glanced at Hermione, then immediately at where she was pointing. Sure enough, Neville was leading the way for Inspector Potter and tag-along Weasley. Potter’s mouth was turned down into that stoic line that did wonders for his jaw. It was most prevalent around Draco like it was something special just for them.

Unfortunately, they needed to leave now or it would be paired with irritated lectures and possible shouting. Draco wasn’t as fond of those. “Next time, call me _first_ , Severus.” Draco Accio’ed his broom and hopped on, hovering low enough for Hermione to climb on behind him. “Don’t forget the samples, Love.”

Hermione quickly shrunk the bags with soil and a few drops of the unidentifiable potion found near the body. She shot the broom a dirty look and hesitated before joining Draco. “Isn’t this stealing evidence? Inspector Potter is still upset about last week and that’s witch’s Kneazle.”

“The Inspector gets upset about most things. He’ll be fine. Let us thank Merlin for breezeways,” he said and rode forward. A quick spell opened the set of doors at the opposite end of the long greenhouse, allowing their escape in the nick of time.

Draco would have to ogle Neville’s thighs at a later date.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Earning his spot on Melbourne’s Muggle And Magically Inclusive Police Force had not been easy for Ron. Traditional school work had never been his forte, but his physical and tactical training scores had saved his arse. However, nothing could have prepared him for Draco Malfoy. Or Hermione Granger. She was an especially scary Witch, even more so _after_ she was cleared for that bloke’s murder.

Malfoy was always on brand. Hermione could lull you into thinking she was smart and law-abiding. Until the law stopped abiding by her.

Ron shook his head and lowered their flying police car back down to an empty street. This time, he remembered to wait until they were turning a corner to flip off the Disillusionment Charm. Obliviating Muggles had gotten old after the first month. 

“Well here’s the street of that rival supplier. The third floor of building number seven twenty-two, corner flat C six. And I do believe that’s Mr Malfoy, climbing in through the window. No other men wear trousers that fitted.” Ron glanced over at Harry just in time to see him grind his teeth and pull on the door handle with an unusual amount of vigour. 

“Cheer up, Harry. He hasn’t beaten us to every location for this case.”

“No. Only the ones that mattered.” Harry slammed his car door shut and Ron was quick to follow suit. “But we’re not letting him slip away again. You take the window, and I’ll cut him off at the door. I don’t care if you have to Body Bind him.”

“Er, it’s broad daylight, Harry. I can’t just levitate myself up there. Muggles.”

“Find a way,” Harry shouted before storming the building. 

Nothing made Harry lose his sense of cool and calm quite like Malfoy these days.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Draco knew he didn’t have much time. When he Apparated into the alley next door, he saw the police car in the sky, two streets away at most. Today’s circular framed glasses weren’t just for looks — they had several charms woven into their magic, one of which repelled disillusionment charms. One of his own handy little creations.

Lucky for him, he knew exactly what list he needed to send Hermione. A quick search of an embarrassingly messy desk had proved fruitful. Draco folded the parchment into a delicate swan and hummed a jolly tune to himself while he listened to thunderous boots stomp up the stairwell. He sent the swan flying out the window across from where he entered and sat his arse down in the chair. Inspector Potter gave him just enough time to put his heels up before throwing the door open with his wand drawn. “Hello, Harry.”

“Malfoy.” Potter was in exceptional shape. He wasn’t the least bit out of breath. _Fantastic._ “Resorting to breaking and entering, are we?”

Weasley chose this exact moment to join them, by falling through the window and crashing into no less than three different items; A chair that toppled over, an ugly lamp that shattered, and a short bookcase which had significantly lighter shelves than before the disturbance. Weasley groaned and remained on the carpet.

“Actually, I don’t think _I_ broke anything,” Draco said sarcastically. “Besides, the window was already open.”

“So you just flew in, like a post owl?” Potter’s melodramatic arm flapping was insulting to owls everywhere.

Draco squinted. “Well, their wings have much more grace than whatever that was.”

Potter’s nostrils flared and his lips turned down, but he wasn’t the one to cast — _“Petrificus Totalus!”_

+++++

“Break and enter? You aren’t seriously going to charge me, Inspector?” Draco was currently standing against a wall in the Magical policemen’s lobby, one floor above the Muggle area. Weasley was attempting to take a serious photo of him for official records but posing outrageously was more fun. The constant flashes and giggles from behind the camera did little to encourage better behaviour. 

Until Potter cleared his throat and Weasley straightened up. “Malfoy, please. Just let me take the photo, and then you can be on your way.”

“He will not _‘be on his way’_ ,” Potter admonished. “We will have a nice chat in my office, so Mr Malfoy can tell me all about whatever evidence was stolen from my crime scene today.”

“You don’t—”

“I _do_ know for certain. You’re only this happy when you’ve gotten away with something and consider yourself clever.” Potter was close and looming again. Right in front of innocent Weasley. Draco was very charmed.

“But Inspector, I am clever.” Draco smirked and leaned in too, then pulled Potter’s Muggle hat down far enough to cover his eyes. Potter’s calloused hand wrapped around Draco’s as expected — with Seeker like reflexes — and guided Malfoy’s hand to fix his hat back into place.

“Miss Granger!” Weasley sounded a bit too enthusiastic to see another living soul. Poor lad.

“Granger?” Harry grumbled.

“At last, my visitor! ‘Mione, what have you brought me for dinner?” Draco slipped out from under Potter’s grasp like an octopus with a mind of its own. “I hope Kreacher made my favourite.”

Potter followed at his heels like he’d been doing all afternoon. “I thought you were Floo’ing your solicitor.”

Draco wrinkled his nose. “My solicitor can’t cook.”

+++++

“And you’re absolutely certain that was every ingredient on the list?” Potter leaned back in his desk chair, his quill dropped carelessly on the parchment, drops of ink splattered on the page. Draco rolled his eyes, then he shoved the parchment over so he could scoot his bum closer to Potter. His current spot on Potter’s desk was much too close to the lamp for comfort. 

“Yes. Try this lobster risotto, Harry.” Draco leaned forward with a serving on his fork, waving it about with a tantalizing smile.

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I haven’t taken anything seriously since 1920. Now, open up your mouth for me…”

Potter’s brown skin flushed a brilliant red at the innuendo and his lips parted with a quiet exhalation. It was all the time Draco needed to sneak the delicious bite into Potter’s mouth.

“Well?” Draco arched a brow and nudged Potter’s calf with a bare ankle. “How is it?”

Potter finished chewing and licked his lips. “Please send my compliments to your house-elf.”

“He’ll be delighted.” Draco made a show of taking his next bite, followed by a satisfied groan. “Shouldn’t you be clapping me in irons? Trespassing, petty theft, giving you roguishly handsome grey hairs.”

“Too much paperwork,” he muttered, unconvincing and raspy.

Draco licked the fork clean in an obscene manner, then he smoothly slid his right leg over Potter’s lap, effectively straddling him with his arse tilted on the edge of the desk. “If I feed you some more, may I see what’s in this folder?” He tapped the clean utensil against it for good measure, aware that Potter’s attention was elsewhere.

Potter cleared his throat and lifted the heel of Draco’s shoe with surprising delicacy, then returned it to the other side of his body. “If it won’t leave you hungry, I suppose I could take a break to eat.”

+++++

Draco was extremely cross with everything in life. Except for Neville and his thighs.

The dead Wizard and the stolen Dragondrake — while intertwined — weren’t even the main focus of their case, merely unfortunate detours. A swath of Fairymint roots had also been stolen from the greenhouse that day, but Neville hadn’t noticed for nearly a week later until it was time to harvest them. They were stolen for use in a new hallucinogenic street potion that began knocking out the wixen youth and taking up room on the potions and plant poisoning floor at St. Gorsemoor.

This had led to valuable time being wasted, and Inspector Potter banning him from not one, but two subsequent crime scenes. Hermione hadn’t meant to hex that other witch’s feet off, and they were able to be reattached so Draco didn’t see the big deal. Also, the explosion he caused was nowhere near as bad as Potter made it seem.

The only saving grace was Neville’s Dragondrake was unharmed, and Draco was able to return it personally. Neville had been so overcome with gratefulness, his first response had been to kiss Draco firmly on the mouth and lift him off the ground by the waist. Polite company had been left by the wayside.

Draco had his hands full of biceps, triceps, shoulders, and back muscles. His own legs were tightly wrapped around glorious thighs. Work roughened hands were gently cradling his face, coaxing his head to one side to deepen the kiss and— 

Neville startled and nearly dropped him when Inspector bloody Potter cleared his throat right beside them. “I apologize for the interruption, Mr Longbottom, but we still need your statement. For our report. To close the case.”

“Right this second?” Draco drawled with disbelief.

“No, he’s right, Draco. I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. And I can’t imagine how Severus would feel about this. He wouldn’t want me to defile his godson so publicly,” Neville chuckled, cheeks stained pink as he gently returned Draco back to the ground. “Please forgive me. It won’t happen again. Inspector? If you’re ready?”

“What?”

“Right this way, Longbottom. No need to worry young Mr Malfoy with the details,” Potter said, leading Neville away with too much haste to ever be considered casual.

“Potter!”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Ron sends his apologies. His Quidditch game ended in a brawl. He had to stay and arrest half of the opposing team,” Potter said as he joined Hermione and Draco in their private booth at Melbourne’s Opera House.

“I didn’t pick you for a fan, Inspector,” Draco smirked. It faltered when Hermione pinched his side.

“Ron forgot to mention what the tickets were for.”

“A pleasant surprise,” she smiled and gestured to the empty seat on Draco’s left. Ron would have to join her another day. Preferably without Draco and Inspector Potter. It was rather hard to watch two dramas at once.

Potter hesitated, then slid into his seat. “One for which he will most definitely pay the price,” he muttered as he stole Draco’s opera glasses.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

The crowd had certainly received their money’s worth today. Or were _traumatized from watching an actress being murdered on stage_ , Hermione had argued with a Severus-esque swot on the back of Draco’s head. How she managed it with her short stature, he would never know.

“Thank you once again for the theatre tickets, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy. It seems we won’t be seeing the second act.” Inspector Potter nodded politely, then turned back towards the stage’s left entrance. _As if he were trying to leave them behind._

“It’s a murder, Harry. Surely you don’t expect me to just walk out.” 

“One can only hope.”

Hermione could look after herself. Draco broke into a slight jog to keep up with Potter’s brisk steps. “But Inspector… I need to look out for the interest of my client.”

“Your client?” Potter asked, his scepticism ringing out loudly.

“Yes.” Draco gestured to the stage director, a tall woman dressed in a more masculine suit than Draco had worn in ten years. “Inspector Potter please meet Millicent Bulstrode. She asked me to look into some strange occurrences in the theatre.”

Millie sized Potter up and down before offering her firm handshake. “I engaged Draco right before the curtain went up.”

“How convenient.”

Draco bounced on the balls of his feet and smiled winsomely. “Millie and I—”

“I know this is a terrible time for everyone, just ghastly,” The lead actor interrupted.

“Oliver, not now!” Millie hissed and raised an arm to bar him from approaching any closer.

“It’s just, don’t you think we should get her costume back before they remove the body? Whoever takes on the role will need it. We have to think of the show!” With a parting sigh, Millie steered Oliver Wood back to the restless group of performers and crew formed in a half circle, metres away from their fallen star.

“Actors, Harry,” Draco whispered into Potter’s ear. “You need someone who understands their language, and I speak fluent thespian.” With nimble fingers, Draco straightened out the wrinkle in Potter’s collar, then adjusted his tie _just so_.

“Er, I’ll stumble through alone, Malfoy,” Potter rumbled. “Thanks all the same.”

His hasty exit could’ve been explained by the appearance of back up finally showing up, but Draco liked to think it was denial chasing him off. He chuckled and slunk off backstage. Now was the perfect time to begin his hunt for the truth.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

When his Locking Charm was disabled and his wards were dismantled without a sound, only a curl of white magic glimmering over the door, Harry threw the file down on his desk and closed his eyes. “I wondered when you’d be back.”

“Did you miss me?” Malfoy asked. The steady click of his heels on hardwood felt ingrained in Harry’s mind at this point. 

“I never get a chance to miss you. It feels as if you’re in my office every second day.” Harry preemptively moved a folder on his desk, just before Malfoy parked his pert arse on top. Some of his outfits made him look slim enough to be carried away with a strong wind, but Harry discovered he was surprisingly heavy with muscles hidden underneath all his flamboyant clothing. Once Malfoy decided to sit on evidence there was no getting it back until he was bribed to move off of it. The threat of arrest held no fear anymore. “To what do I owe the pleasure today?”

“There’s been a development in our case.”

“ _Our_ case?”

“I expect the actors let slip about the ghost?” Malfoy only looked this smug when he felt extra clever. Or after one of his clients kissed him in a moment of severe emotional fragility. His track record for this happening was almost impressive.

“They did.” Harry licked his teeth to dislodge the sudden frown he felt stretched over his mouth. “Don’t tell me you suspect the ghost.”

“I was thinking whoever removed the wards to prevent ghosts from entering the premises.” Malfoy preened worse than the peacocks Harry had to deal with every time he visited Severus for a potions consult. However, that was an angle Harry had yet to consider. His team hadn’t even discovered proof of former wards existing. They were dealing with someone who was highly skilled.

“I suppose you’re clever enough to keep around sometimes,” Harry allowed. He could tease. That didn’t _automatically_ equate to flirting, Ron just didn’t understand. 

“Clever enough for a treat?” Malfoy was strictly the only one who flirted in their relationship and it was never truly meant. It was harmless. It was fine. Malfoy flirted with everyone and Harry wasn’t jealous at all.

“Are you sure you’re not an owl?” Harry chuckled and reached between Malfoy’s legs, to slide a drawer open far enough to pull out a Chocolate Cauldron to place in his waiting palm. 

“No Sugar Quills today?” Malfoy asked while unwrapping his sweet.

“No. You distract my men enough without the help of confectioneries.”

“Pity.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

The first case Draco and Potter worked together — _not together, Malfoy_ — they didn’t get on well. Trust hadn’t been built up between them yet. The next few were rocky, but the information was passed between them — _returning stolen evidence is not sharing, Malfoy_ — and a delicate balance began to form. Now, they easily worked together — _separately, alongside each other, Malfoy_ — to the point where some people even assumed Draco was a plain-clothed Police Inspector, too. ( _Absolutely, no one thinks that, Malfoy. I’ve simply stopped wasting the energy of having you escorted from the scene._ ) 

In short, this case was going to be easier to solve than first year’s charms class.

+++++

This case was not as easy as first year’s charm class.

Draco would be damn tired of the theatre and its inhabitants at this point if Potter wasn’t so annoyed by it all. In fact, Potter was even annoyed by people who were completely removed from the theatre.

Draco didn’t understand. His new acquaintance Miss Chang was _lovely_ in every way _._

Oliver was also lovely in a visual sense, but if Draco had to listen to him put theatre before the life of his co-stars one more time…

“Do me a favour, Mr Malfoy?” Oliver asked while holding out the prop bonnet. “Romilda isn’t being reasonable, and I need to rehearse.”

“Sure,” Draco said unenthusiastically, pulling his hair out of its bun. 

“I thought you loved theatre,” Potter whispered with a smirk he clearly stole from Draco.

“Shut up, Potter,” Draco muttered before crossing the stage. 

“If you would just follow along as best you can.”

“Where’s my mark?” Draco asked while fixing the bonnet into place.

“Right here. No — here,” Oliver corrected with a firm hand on Draco’s shoulder. He did a dramatic and unnecessary countdown from five before beginning their scene. “Mistress Rose…”

“Master Robin,” Draco echoed, then wrinkled his nose as it tickled with a familiar scent. “Do you smell hyacinths?” 

“That’s not your line,” Oliver said with a snooty tone.

Then everything went black.

+++++

“ _Draco… Draco… Please…_ ”

The bright light was painful and Draco couldn’t see anything at all… but two pinpricks of jade green.

“ _Draco… Slowly, that’s it, Draco._ ”

A warm, calloused hand was caressing his cheek, his jaw, his neck.

“ _There you are… Slowly, Draco._ ”

A rich, smooth, deep voice was rumbling near his ears, breath was moving a few baby hairs framing his face.

“ _Draco_?”

Harry.

“Draco… Do you know where you are?”

Draco blinked until his vision cleared, the dizziness stopped, sensation muted entirely then returned to normal levels. Harry was cradling Draco to his chest, one arm underneath, a hand on his face. They were on the floor, on the stage. Someone else was laid out a few metres away, a sandbag by their head. There was blood.

“Oliver?”

“Draco, look at me,” Harry insisted. He sounded odd. He didn’t sound proud or annoyed or in control. He sounded almost—

“Draco, _look at me_ ,” he repeated. A hand gripped his chin and gently turned his face away from the body, from Oliver, and he made Draco meet his gaze. His eyes were green and bright.

“I see you.” He also saw Millie walk over and drop a jacket over Oliver. He still didn’t understand.

“I smelled hyacinths… then.” Draco frowned and licked his lips. His throat was dry.

“Then the sandbag dropped. I saw it but I only had time to push you out, I couldn’t catch you before you hit your head. I’m so sorry.” Harry rubbed his thumb over Draco’s cheekbone and bit his lip like he was worried. “Ron’s field scan showed nothing major was wrong. Just knocked you out. He’s searching upstairs with Bones now. How’s your head? I can get you a potion.”

Draco smacked his lips and curled his fingers tighter. He was holding onto Harry’s trench coat. It felt soft. “No, I’m fine… I need a moment.” He tried to set up farther but Harry rested a hand on his chest and kept him down. “I don’t… Why didn’t you use a shield charm?”

Harry’s face changed. “I panicked… Plus, the Muggles around. Millicent and Romilda are the only ones with magic.” His voice changed too. It was odd, but a different odd from before. A bad difference. Harry was closing down and shutting Draco out. 

He didn’t understand. “I need.” Draco flopped out of Harry’s hold, crawled out of his embrace. Moved away. “Where’s Hermione.”

“She went home. Mr Malfoy, you really need to see a doctor.”

“Sure,” Draco muttered. He needed to leave. Walk away.

He needed fresh air. All he could smell was hyacinths and Harry.

+++++

_You’re next._

Every other person who received a note had died. Draco had almost died in Oliver’s place. He swallowed roughly and crept along the dusty wall with his wand drawn. 

He had seen the ghost. Myrtle, she had called herself, weeping.

_You’re next._

Ghosts couldn’t leave physical notes. It went against magic and science. 

Draco tripped over a wire on the ground and felt his heart stop, then restart as he stumbled, his hand scraping the floor as he caught himself. The friction was rough against his palm and his skin burned. He hoped he didn’t make too much noise. Someone could have heard him curse. 

Too late for that. He could hear someone’s footsteps.

With his wand pointed out and a curse on his lips, Draco turned the corner sharply and was pulled flush against Potter’s chest. His wand was roughly yanked out of his hand. White sparks hovered in the air beside them and Draco gasped aloud. A steady hand rubbed his back, slowed his pulse. 

“Must you sneak around, Malfoy? There’s a killer on the loose.”

“I heard something.”

“So did I. In the light tower,” Potter whispered. “We found the rope from the sandbag. It was burned, cut with magic. Not an accident like we had hoped.”

“Did you smell it? The flowers, they’re hyacinths.” With shaky hands, Draco pulled the note from his trouser pocket and unfolded it before he passed it to Potter to read.

Potter cursed then handed Draco his wand back. His arm curled around Draco’s waist with a tight squeeze and he guided him back into the hall, towards the exit. “Now, I really can’t let you out of my sight.

+++++

Potter had kept his word. Three long days were spent in constant contact. Potter was waiting in Draco’s parlour with Blaise from the time he woke up, then tailed him the whole route home like a shadow. Draco couldn’t take a piss in the theatre without Potter following him into the room. The only reprieve he had was when Draco made it very clear his dinner with Cho was a date for two.

Potter stalked Draco more closely than that damn ghost. More closely than the killer, even did!

The killer who turned out to be one of the other actors. The whole bloody mess was a love gone wrong. Love triangles. _Merlin, they were the worst._

The most frustrating bit was — once the case was over — Draco didn’t hear from Potter at all for almost three weeks.

Until their next murder case.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione was happy for Draco, truly. His two best friends from school were visiting, Dean and Seamus, a painter and his muse, loving husbands. They were wonderful gentlemen, really. But their rowdy beer drinking and Wizarding card games had been going on since three o’clock this afternoon. It was now midnight. Hermione understood they had a lot to catch up on — it was their first day visiting — _but honestly_ , how the hell was she supposed to get any studying done?

These men could penetrate her best silencing charm. Granted, it was only December. She had been learning magic just shy of six months now and was only on Draco’s fourth year books. Hermione looked at the stack of books on the kitchen table to her left and sighed.

“More cocoa, Miss Granger?” Blaise asked. His house slippers were so quiet on the tile she never heard him approach.

“Yes, please.” At least Kreacher had disappeared for another few days again. She had knit him ten different pairs of socks, and he wouldn’t accept a single one. His desire to remain enslaved infuriated her.

“Hey, can we get cocoa, too?” Seamus slurred in what he probably thought was a reasonable level of noise for this time of night. _It wasn’t._

“No. You’re not drinking anymore. Ever,” His husband Dean said with a kiss that nearly missed his cheek.

“It’s hardly alcoholic, Darling. Blaise only gets naughty on the weekends,” Draco chuckled. He stumbled into the kitchen, just as crookedly as his friends had. The arms he wrapped around each waist would be the glue that kept them together or their tragic collapse onto the floor. Hermione was meanly hoping for the latter. It would serve them right.

Blaise graciously ignored Draco’s salacious comment. “Would you like me to turn down the bed in the guest room, Mr Malfoy? It’s rather late.”

“Yes, it is,” Hermione grumbled into her porcelain mug.

“That won’t be necessary, Blaise. They’ll be staying with me,” Draco winked. Another poorly aimed kiss from Dean and they excused themselves, making the most embarrassing racket as they lumbered up the stairs and into Draco’s suite. They would wake Teddy up at this rate.

“I didn’t know you could comfortably fit three grown men on Mr Malfoy’s bed.”

“He can fit four when one of them is a woman,” Hermione said without thinking. She blushed at Blaise’s inquiring brow. “Not _me_ , obviously! I went to deliver his breakfast tray. It was after the Inspector turned him down.”

“Which time?”

Hermione buried her face in her hands and groaned. “If you had asked me months ago, who dealt better with admitting to and expressing their emotions, I would have lost money betting against Ron.”

“Have some more cocoa, Dear.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

December had not gone to plan at all.

Dean and Seamus were to visit, to be entertained until Christmas when all of their parents would arrive by Portkey. They were meant to have fun, maybe indulge in a few hedonistic ways of their youth. Dean was supposed to paint in the countryside. Maybe paint some new portraits of Draco and Seamus.

Seamus was never meant to be kidnapped for ransom four days into their travel. Their old pal Rookwood’s friendly visit had an ulterior motive. It had been nothing more than an opportunity to scope out Draco’s home and the paintings he displayed. So he could later rob the place while Blaise and Teddy were home alone. Potter’s colleague Robards turned out to be dirty and the reason why Hermione was nearly cursed to shreds during their search for Seamus’ kidnapper. 

And Dolohov — _Antonin_ — was found to be pulling the strings. His greed for Dean’s success over the past several years and anger over his own commercial failure had spurred the shite plan into existence. _Antonin_. Their friend of the arts, Draco’s former _fiance_. Draco felt sick and heartbroken all at once.

If there was any advice he could go back and give to his younger self, one tiny morsel of wisdom, it would be to say no. To go home alone. To not give in to the carnal desires that would spark a dangerous obsession.

Draco was willing to right any wrong if it meant getting Seamus back safely. Unfortunately, his only course of action was to not act at all. To wait, until Weasley’s plan fell into place.

Five more minutes until showtime.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

At first, Daphne Greengrass had seemed wary of letting her bistro be used for the game board of criminal’s chess about to go down until Draco had reminded her it was for Seamus, for Dean. It took the promise of police protection for her sister, who wasn’t even there, but then she had allowed them to set up shop.

Nine undercover Wizards were stationed throughout the dining room, including Melbourne MDLE Head, Shacklebolt. What they were attempting to do was risky, but within their reach, if everyone played their part. If Hermione stayed safe in the kitchens. If Draco kept to his corner and out of sight. If Crabbe and Goyle had remained at Draco’s with Blaise, Teddy, and Dr Parkinson, instead of muscling in to sit at a table that was far too close to Robards. If Shacklebolt had threatened Robards with anything less than a Portkey straight to Azkaban, Ron would be worried about a tip-off to Dolohov.

Three more minutes until showtime.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Harry was confident that his team could execute the plan down to the last detail. He trusted these men and women with his life. However, he didn’t trust himself. Harry had been assigned Draco duty, in addition to backing Bones up with Thomas. Which meant if shit went down, Harry had to stay and protect and fight. He’d have to ignore the voice in his head that suggested wrapping himself around Draco and Disapparating to safety. The voice that grew louder with every slight disturbance. The screech of silverware on china, of ice clinking in a half-empty glass, of Cornfoot’s fake laughter that was too rigid to be mistaken for casual and undercover.

One more minute until showtime.

Draco was paler than ever, his usual poise lost in a sea of worry. Despite some very close calls, Harry had only seen him twist his signet ring with agitation a couple of times. He’d been constantly turning it over since their snails had been delivered. His eyes never left the doorway and his shoulders were slouched in a way that would wrinkle the fabric of his blouse. A riotous complaint on any other day.

He was far too obvious.

Harry knew the moment Dolohov had arrived, not by the quiet hum of the charmed cigar tucked behind his ear, but the way Draco’s eyes had widened and his breath choked off in a gasp.

“I don’t feel like I have your full attention, Malfoy.”

Draco did little more than glance his way before focusing back on Dolohov. He shivered and Harry swore he would curse Dolohov for whatever damage he had caused to still affect Draco this way, years later.

“Draco. Hey, eyes on me… Draco. _Draco_ ,” Harry pleaded. Without a second thought, Harry cupped Draco’s cheek and turned his face in, closer, close enough to press their lips together. Gentle, steady pressure gave way to open mouths, to tongues and teeth. To a kiss so utterly consuming that every whisper of Dolohov could be erased from Draco’s mind with Harry’s intention, or so he hoped.

Harry broke the kiss to inhale, to give Ron the signal, to gaze deeply into Draco’s eyes and see fear melt away as the last wisps of fog in the late morning. The fear was instead replaced with an emotion that Harry didn’t want to interpret. So Harry kissed him again.

The bliss lasted until Thomas let out a bone-chilling shout and a Muggle gun went off.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Draco wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up here, with the barrel of his gun pressed firmly into Antonin’s chest.

Seamus was said to be alive. Dean had yelled and nearly been shot. Wands had been drawn and curses and spells went flying. Seamus was suddenly in the room with Rookwood’s wand against his throat.

_Harry had kissed him._

Antonin had called for Draco. Some tiny remnant of an old Imperio must have remained because he had listened. Antonin called and Draco obeyed, only to be used as a shield.

Until he wasn’t a shield, and he had a gun in his hands, turned on Antonin and this could all be over if Draco would just pull the trigger. But he couldn’t, Antonin knew it and he taunted Draco, in that awful tone that had promised him so many sweet things that never panned out. 

Draco couldn’t shoot Antonin even when he called Seamus a Mudblood. When Rookwood was pushed to take the fall so he could escape.

Thank Merlin for Hermione. For her inability to follow the rules when they conflicted with her sense of justice. For her courage to do the necessary thing even if it wasn’t exactly right. For her ingenious idea to easily bypass shields, wards and magic by stabbing Antonin with a bloody Muggle kitchen knife.

Draco wasn’t entirely sure what happened after; not until he realized Harry was wrapping him up in his trench coat and smoothing his hair back. Whispering, “Let’s get you home now.”

+++++

“This is certainly a well-travelled work of art,” Harry said while hanging up his fedora in the entry hall. With care, he brought the wrapped painting into the parlour and set it down on the coffee table in front of Draco. The tension in his body seemed to melt away as he slouched into a chair across Draco.

“A little like me,” Draco chuckled and set down his sweetened tea, then scooted forward to loosen the twine. “Thank you, for helping me to retrieve it. I wasn’t sure I would ever see this again.” Once the final swath of brown paper was lifted it revealed a very… _lascivious_ portrait of Draco, painted by Dean. His nude body was sprawled over an emerald fainting couch, soft morning light dappled across his porcelain skin. His eyes were open but unfocused, lips in a pout with a faint sheen. His cock was soft between his thighs, a tidy nest of blond curls just above it. A lit cigar was loosely grasped in his left hand. While shorter than his current style, his hair in the portrait was just long enough to obscure one shoulder, dishevelled as it was.

Dean said it was his best work and Draco agreed.

Harry did too, based on his expression. Draco would even go so far as to say he looked enchanted. Or drunk on Amortentia.

“You’re blushing,” Draco teased, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

Harry cleared his throat and quickly averted his gaze. “I’m a grown man, Malfoy. I’m not likely to blush at the sight of a little bare flesh.”

“That’s what surprises me, Inspector Potter. In fact… _lately_ … you’re full of surprises.” Draco leaned in, fully aware of his lounge robe sliding open further, dangerously close to exposing a nipple or two.

“It’s all part of the job. I actually have to get back to the station. Urgent paperwork,” Harry said. His words were all in a rush as he stumbled out of his chair and back to the entryway. “Excuse me, Malfoy.”

“Goodnight then,” Draco wished in a sing-song tone of voice. He was disappointed, but not wholly surprised. 

“Goodnight.” The door was pulled shut far too loudly, to pass for unbothered.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Harry had spent the last four days avoiding absolutely everything that resembled art in the slightest of ways. Of course, the first case he gets called in for after requesting a few days' leave is for a murdered artist. At least this one — Dolores Umbridge — was a writer and not a painter. He felt blood rising up the back of his neck and causing his cheeks to flush just thinking about paintings. The reaction wasn’t emotional, no, it was merely physical. Harry had spent too many minutes on his hands and knees, head bent down while he studied the suspicious powder on the floor under the victim’s desk. His diagnostic charms proved it to be harmless enough to be transported.

He Accio’ed a magical test tube from the police bag resting by the doorway and levitated the powder inside for safekeeping. They could run more in-depth testing back at the station. Another hour and the initial inspection of the victim’s office would be complete, and Harry could go home. He could eat a house-elf prepared dinner and return to his new routine of ignoring all thoughts about Draco Malfoy’s nude body laid out like a gift unwrapped.

“Morgana’s saggy tits,” Harry cursed and sat back on his knees. His balled fists rubbed over his eyes, a useless attempt to clear his mind. If anything, he felt that stray tingle of magic, an occasional mild headache leftover from the intense healing spell work layered over his eyes in childhood. He traded one annoyance for another.

Harry needed to get on with it. He turned his head to the left and was immediately met with a pair of legs covered by glossy, pinstripe trousers. A harsh swallow echoed in the silent room as he tilted his chin, following legs up, up, and up until he saw an equally lanky torso wrapped in a sheer, lace blouse. Harry could see nipples that were the same rosebud pink from that bloody painting. Slowly, he transitioned from kneeling, to a squat, to standing, looking down on Draco. One stuttered breath later and Harry discovered he was much too close. The scent of Draco was potent — cedar, vanilla, and the lingering smell of ancient magic on paper from ancestral library books. Masculinity, femininity, and raw power all fused in one.

Now, Draco was in kissing distance. It was absolutely heady.

An impish smirk curled on Draco’s lips, and Harry wanted to lick the mischief away. “Hello, Harry.”

Naturally, Harry panicked and advanced to the other side of the room where he studied a meaningless scuff on the wall. This confrontation was _not_ a part of his plan for the day. 

However, Draco failed to receive this memo and trailed after him with the sharp click of heels on hardwood flooring. The noise plagued his dreams at night. “Tell me, Harry, does that new furrow in your brow have anything to do with kissing me the other day?” 

_For Salazar’s sake._ Harry tossed his wand down on the desk beside him and closed the meter of distance between them. “I didn’t kiss you. I was trying to protect you.”

Draco raised a haughty brow and looked fairly disbelieving. “All in the line of duty?”

Harry felt his nostrils flare unattractively as he poked Draco in his sternum. “You were looking a dangerous Wizard in the eye, and I had to distract you. I’m sorry if you think I took a liberty,” Harry said. He even tried one of those lofty sniffs Draco handed out to everyone around him.

All Draco did was chuckle. “Harry, you kissed me. Let’s call a sword, a sword.”

“You kissed me back,” Harry argued, stepping forward in his exasperation. The tips of their noses touched.

“And I’m not here to apologize.” Draco’s eyes were grey and intense, pupils dilated.

Harry felt like his lungs had been starved of oxygen for hours. “Then why are you here?” he asked, quietly.

Draco tilted his head, licked his lips, gave the impression that he was going to close the distance, and kiss Harry. Instead, he eased back and put a regrettable amount of distance between them. A respectable amount should anyone else walk in. The amount of distance, Harry had desperately craved two minutes ago. Now, he felt forlorn. 

Draco averted his eyes and needlessly adjusted the bow on his Peter Pan style blouse collar. “I need a favour for Mrs Trelawney. She hired me. Not for the murder, but to find the missing papers.”

Of course. Draco was here for the case. Nothing else. They were professionals. “I already asked her to wait, Malfoy.”

“I promise I won’t touch anything,” Draco said and moved past Harry to meander around the room. It was a lie he’d told Harry on almost every shared crime scene thus far. “Technically brilliant, but not particularly avant-garde.” Two seconds had passed and Draco was already touching one of the victim’s self-portraits hanging on the wall. “Obviously from her blue period.”

“Blue seems to have been her colour until the bitter end,” Harry said and followed behind him. A range of shades covered her office, in artwork, decor, fabrics, and this morning — the skin on her dead face.

“I would have guessed a thrombosis if I didn’t suspect somebody had it in for her,” Draco supplied. His long, pale fingers were tracing the delicate moving parts of an opened music box until a faint piano tune began to play. 

Harry lifted Draco’s wrist out of bounds and slammed the wooden box shut, a sudden end for the lullaby. “I think that classifies as touching something.”

Predictably, Draco held up both hands, fingers spread wide in a false show of innocence. “Would you like me to slip on some gloves?”

“No,” Harry ground out between clenched teeth. Harry wanted Draco to leave and not return until things went back to normal — whatever that was for them, now.

“Just the desk drawers…” Draco tried to compromise with a terrible pep in his step. It made his hips swivel in a way Harry didn’t want to think about.

“ _Goodbye_ , Mr Malfoy.”

“If you happen to find that story—”

“It may be relevant to the case.”

Draco was gracious enough to smother his laughter, but not kind enough to be subtle about it. “Helga and the Blue Fairies versus Merlin the Monitor Lizard?” His cheek was going to give Harry hives one day.

“I will let you know, later today.” Harry wasn’t flustered and Draco wasn’t pretty when he smiled and blew a kiss before flouncing out of the room. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tea with the magazine’s editor Luna and illustrator Mrs Trelawney had been illuminating for the case. Of the Umbridge murder, not the missing papers. The weekly story update had been found in a magically locked drawer and returned by Ronald. Their ‘disappearance’ had nothing to do with the murder case and everything to do with Dolores being a miserable bitch to work with. No one was surprised.

On the bright side, news of his social calendar had made its way to Harry who then saw fit to pay Draco a post-brunch visit, grilling him on any information he might be holding back from the investigation. Or to look at Draco with glazed eyes like he was right now. Draco casually stretched his legs out on the chaise lounge he was sprawled on, tucking a pillow behind his back to help create a delectable arch.

Harry might not have been aware, but he was leaning over an awful amount from his neighbouring wingback chair. Draco could stroke his cheek from this distance. “I heard Ms Umbridge taught you at Hogwarts. What kind of woman was she?” Harry asked. 

“Cold as a halibut on ice.” Draco ignored the sound of knocking from the entryway and placed a steady hand on the chaise, then leaned close in a way Harry couldn’t ignore. “Are you wooing me for information, Inspector?”

“No,” Harry breathed, sounding wholly unconvincing.

“Mr Malfoy, you have another visitor.” Blaise interrupted without an ounce of shame.

Draco dropped his gaze to Harry’s mouth for only a few seconds before turning to greet his unexpected guest. His enthusiasm grew once he realized who it was. “Cho! I thought you were still in Hong Kong.”

Cho remained in the doorway, her normal spark appearing to have dimmed in the present company. Or perhaps it was how close that company was to Draco. “My apologies for the intrusion, Draco. _Inspector Potter_.” She nodded, her voice icier than before. 

Harry nodded back, contributing to the sudden, awkward energy of the room. “Er, nice to see you... again, Ms Chang.”

Draco clearly needed to mitigate this disaster. “Come and join us, I’ll call Kreacher for some fresh tea.”

“Uh, no. I was just leaving.” Harry lurched out of his seat and hit his calf on the coffee table, causing the irritating screech of disturbed china to ring out in the room. “Thank you, Mr Malfoy. I appreciate your help with the case.” He gave Draco the most embarrassing shoulder pat in history then passed Cho with another stiff nod, graceless until the front door slammed shut.

“I’m going to ignore whatever that was,” Cho said and removed her shawl. “In happier news, I broke off my engagement with Su Li. Do you have plans for dinner?”

+++++

The past two hours were exhausting, but Hermione and Ronald were capable of finishing the research on Umbridge and her cursed music box at Malfoy Manor. Dean and Seamus were familiar enough with the family library to be of help if Severus refused to cooperate. Draco hung up his sun hat and silk scarf on the entry hall’s rack then smiled at Blaise when he approached from the dining room. 

“Mr Malfoy, I apologize. I think I misunderstood. I thought it was Ms Chang who would be joining you for dinner tonight?” Blaise asked quietly, his brow raised and head tilted towards the other dimly lit room.

Draco leaned his head over to see past Blaise and spot Harry’s back facing them, his trench coat pulled taut across broad shoulders. “Ah, yes. Well, never mind the original plan, Blaise. Perhaps a little more light on the situation, but I’m sure the Inspector and I will cope.” Draco followed him into the dining room and pulled his seat out at the head of the table, while Blaise turned on the overhead chandelier and extinguished all of the romantic candles that had been lit in anticipation for dinner with Cho. “Kreacher placed a Stasis Charm on your meal. Good evening, gentlemen,” Blaise said before leaving them alone.

Harry sat down to Draco’s left and picked up a pair of chopsticks, looking bewildered as he held one in each hand. “Ms Chang seemed well. We crossed paths as she departed. She mentioned her grandmother,” he said with a confused lilt in his tone. That was the most likely reason for her absence tonight. 

Draco took pity on him and transfigured Harry’s chopsticks into a regular knife and fork. “I hope you like Chinese food, Harry. Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Harry smiled and the softness of it felt like a Bludger to the stomach.

+++++

Harry’s mixed signals were giving Draco a headache. Four days of complete avoidance and then he sends an owl requesting Draco’s presence — official presence — at a crime scene. Draco barely had time to reply before Cho showed up for a midday tryst. He doubted that their off and on sexual dalliances were helpful in making a decision about the arranged marriage her grandmother was attempting to secure for Cho but well, Draco was certainly the last Wizard who could judge someone for their personal choices.

He was quite enjoying the orgasms, too. Merlin knows, Harry wasn’t giving in anytime soon.

A small hand with long nails scraping down his chest brought him back to the current moment. The cadence of Cho’s voice, complaining about the choice she had to settle on, matched the rise and fall of her slim hips, straddled across Draco. He was _inside of her_ and she was still weighing the pros and cons of her potential Half-Veela fiancee. If Draco hadn’t just been thinking about Harry and thus equally guilty, he’d be offended right now.

“You made your choice, Cho. To follow your tradition. Marry for duty and honour. Something I’ve failed my own family by.” Draco said, softening the blow with a squeeze and caress of Cho’s breast.

“Perhaps I was wrong and this broken engagement is my last chance… for love,” she said. Cho bent down and kissed Draco deeply, running her fingers through blond hair longer than her own. “Come out with me tonight, we’ll go dancing.”

“Not tonight,” Draco murmured, cupping her jaw with a gentle touch. “I have to rise earlier than I care to. Inspector Potter and I are working on a case.”

Cho pushed herself back up with her hands uncomfortably placed on Draco’s chest. “Is he unable to solve crimes without you now? He’s a Wizard, same as us,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Harry is strictly business. …Cho. I care for you, truly.” Draco held her hand and lifted it to kiss the delicate inside of her wrist. “But you know I could never commit myself to one woman.”

Cho’s hips slowed to a subtle grind and she pushed her fringe off her forehead. “I know.” She climbed down from Draco’s lap and repositioned herself beside him on her elbows and knees. “I’m tired. Stop making me do all the work. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do,” she ordered.

With a huff of laughter, Draco complied, thankful for the less intimate position. He had no desire to see Cho’s face upon climax when he knew deep down, he’d be thinking about Harry.

+++++

Solving the case was rather easy once Harry and Draco teamed up. So easy, it left Harry in such an agreeable mood that he took up Draco’s offer of a celebratory dinner. 

“I’m very glad you came, Harry,” Draco said, guiding Harry into the dining room with a significantly less romantic set up than their prior meal.

“And what puzzle are we solving tonight?”

“No puzzle.” Draco took his customary seat and poured Elf wine from the decanter. 

“And no candlelight. No chopsticks either,” Harry teased.

“There won’t be any chopsticks at this table for quite some time.” Draco smiled and swirled his wine in its glass.

“And how would Ms Chang feel about that?” Harry paid his own glass no attention, his eyes firmly on Draco.

“Ms Chang will have plenty enough to worry about with her new Veela bride.”

The smile that bloomed on Harry’s face could power a thousand Lumos. It caused Draco’s heart to skip a beat. “Really? Pass on my congratulations.”

Draco nodded and took a quick sip of his wine, unable to savour it with his thoughts as scrambled as they were. “Perhaps we could allow ourselves just one candle. What do you think?”

Harry’s gaze felt like the softest trace of healing magic as it wandered Draco’s face and his quickly developing blush. “I think I could cope with that,” Harry said. He used his wand to ignite the centermost candle and coincidently, a rush of feelings inside Draco’s spirit.

+++++

+++++

+++++

Draco’s professional truce with Harry was extremely short-lived. Once news of Cho’s planned wedding in Hong Kong made the official rounds, Harry stopped needing Draco’s assistance on cases. Severus was still called on for a potions consult from time to time like had been the case for years. Ron even broke protocol once or twice and asked Hermione for help on research. It was only Draco’s pride in her accomplishments and ever-increasing mastery of magic that kept the jealousy at bay.

Beyond even official police business, Harry never had time for dinner or theatre tickets or Quidditch games. Even the free matches that Ronald’s sister — a newly signed Chaser — acquired tickets for.

No, Draco had been firmly set aside, like a cup of tea with a Stasis Charm, kept warm for when Harry finally decided he was ready. It was a load of Hippogriff shit. Draco played by no one else’s rules but his own. And so he returned to his previous party boy tendencies, befriending Pavarti along the way.

As well as all of the handsome, older gentlemen who kept her company, Wizards and Muggles alike.

It was those very connections that had him at this particular party, where a dead Muggle was dampening the mood. At least Harry was speaking to him again.

“Do you have a personal interest in this case, Malfoy?” Harry asked, arms crossed and blocking the view of the body behind him.

“Not at all.” Draco smiled sweetly, cuddled into the side of tonight’s date. Anthony Something. “Although I did briefly own that painting until it proved to be stolen.” He helpfully pointed to the Renaissance portrait a few metres to their left and swayed briefly on his feet, full of firewhisky tonight.

“Why is it always so complicated with you?”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Inspector Potter.”

Harry looked up from his seat on the floor to see a much more sober version of Draco from last night. While his date was thankfully not plastered to his side today, Goldstein did co-own the bookshop where their newest crime scene was. Maybe he was guilty and Harry could do the community a favor and arrest him. “Malfoy.”

“It was poison. I’d bet my heels on it.”

Harry’s eyes fell to rest on today’s footwear. They were the same pair Draco had worn that night at Lavender’s, the black strap a beautiful contrast to the alabaster cream of his skin. Slowly, Harry cupped the back of Draco’s left shoe and lifted his foot up for inspection. He turned it gently to one side, then the other, his thumb a constant heat against his ankle, rubbing in a circular motion. Draco swayed in place then steadied himself with a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Pity. I don’t think they’d suit me.” Harry kept his gaze locked on Draco’s and traced the length of his arch before carefully setting his foot back on the ground.

For the first time since their kiss in the bistro, Draco looked speechless. _Beautiful. Fragile._

Of course, that’s when Ron tripped over a stack of books behind them and cursed loud enough to break the moment. Draco took two large steps back and planted a hand on his hip. “A man has just dropped dead in her shop, and she’s going about like it’s of little importance.” It seems Draco believes the other co-owner is to blame and not his newest boyfriend. _Fantastic._

“I’ll be interviewing her shortly. In private.” Harry clarified and stood up, casting a quick Scourgify on the knees of his trousers.

“ _Harry_ , I called you, remember!” Whining like a small child was _supposed_ to be horribly unattractive on everyone. 

“Just because you call the fire brigade, doesn’t mean you get to stick around and help put out the fire.”

Ron laughed abrasively until their twin glares shut him up.

“A warm teapot in the cupboard, a broken cup in the bin, and a fragment of the handle under the body.”

“We checked and there was no…” Harry trailed off when Draco smirked and finally opened his other palm. There was a chunk of china in a horrid green with jagged edges and dried blood on one end. Harry reached out to examine it, only for Draco to pull back and cast an immediate Shield Charm around himself. And the only promising piece of evidence.

_“Fine.”_

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

“What evidence do you have that it was me who broke into the bookshop?” Draco asked from his lofty spot on Harry’s desk. Clearly, he had been expected. There was a fresh supply of Sugar Quills in the desk drawer. He made an obnoxious noise while he sucked on his third one of the hour.

“You were seen parked outside in your bloody sports car,” Harry said like that _meant_ something.

“If a tree falls in the forest—”

“You are very likely, nearby, wielding the proverbial Muggle axe.”

Draco pouted and sucked on his quill. Harry didn’t even let him finish. “Well, I _didn’t_ break the window. It was a Wizard in black robes. The same man who attacked me when I tried to stop him from stealing a book.”

“He attacked you?” Harry sounded worried, as he should.

“Well, I disturbed him, and he ran off with the book, so I gave chase, and then he took a shot at me. So I did the only thing I could do in the circumstances.”

“You sent a Patronus for help?”

“I stabbed him in the shoulder with a nasty hex. Put an end to his duelling, right away.”

Harry rolled his eyes and cast a Finite on his Dict-a-Quill. “Did you at least get a good look at this Wizard?”

Draco avoided Harry’s imploring gaze and instead pushed a miniature galleon off his desk, like a naughty kitten. “No. He escaped into the night. It was dark, I’ll have you know. A new moon. The scent of wild lavender blooms was faint in the breeze…”

+++++

The act of murder was becoming so tedious in this town.

It turned out to be the case of an evil twin. Which may sound exciting, but in truth, it was the same old boring shit. Padma poisoned the men who had chosen Parvati over her, then robbed them of valuables while under Polyjuice Potion. Most of her profits were funnelled into purchasing more books for her shop, boring as that was. However, a few powerful items stolen from Wizards were cleverly sewn into book bindings and trafficked into more malevolent hands.

Anthony Goldsomething had no idea this was going on under his nose, which for some reason made Harry act quite annoyed.

+++++

+++++

+++++

Constable Weasley was _fit_. Taller than everyone and broad in stature. Bright blue eyes and dozens of freckles. Large hands with thick fingers.

If Draco wasn’t already enamoured with the Inspector, Ronald would very much be his type. Hermione had definitely lucked out with her choice of suitor. It would stand to reason that his sister Ginny would be just as attractive. And she was much more forthcoming about her attraction to Draco than Harry ever was outside of a French bistro.

Draco was already enthusiastic about his season tickets to watch Ginny and the Melbourne Manticores. Front box seats for Quidditch murder was simply the cherry on top of his sticky toffee pudding sundae. 

+++++

“How come every time I need to arrest someone, they need to be saved from an altercation with you, first?” Harry yelled as he stomped his way across the pitch to Draco, Hermione, and one very guilty Beater — _Bristlecone_. 

“That’s not true. Last week I saved Ronald.” Draco had barely gotten a ‘Thank you’. _Mother would be deeply disappointed in their lack of manners._

“From a crime scene, you had already been banned from!” 

“Luckily for Ronald, I didn’t listen.”

“You never listen!”

+++++

One week, three Quidditch matches, and five brilliant shags later, the case of a murder disguised as an in-game foul was solved. 

Ginny had been most kind when she turned down Draco and his wish for a more serious relationship between them. He understood. Certain careers had to be the first priority.

It was a lesson Harry tried to beat into him every case, in fewer words.

+++++

+++++

+++++

Every sibling of Ronald’s that Draco met, was more attractive than the last. Charlie — _Charlie Weasley, sweet Merlin_ — was a Dragonologist. If Draco had a fanny, he’d be so wet right now.

Yes, well, anyways, someone was stealing Dragon eggs from the Melbourne sanctuary, and Charlie decided to hire Draco to find out who was behind that. Which was exciting. Perhaps too exciting, since it hadn’t been a single culprit, or two, or three, or ten. 

The smuggling ring was closer to twenty in size. While Hermione and Ron were able to split from their group and return to safety with one of the latest stolen eggs, only a single dark Wizard on their tail, Draco and Harry weren’t so lucky.

They were on the edge of a forest and oceanside cliff, duelling to the death, so it seemed.

+++++

“When we return home, might I suggest you work on your Shield Charms!” Harry shouted, casual as one could be when three different Wizards were coming at him with variations on the Blasting Curse. Two more Wizards were less inventive, using poorly controlled Crucios. The criminals had already taken out three of their own men with friendly fire. Draco was truly thankful for the small mercies in life.

“It’s a difference in technique!” Draco insisted, dropping into a crouch seconds before a Bombarda hit the back of Harry’s Protego — directly where Draco’s head had been. Rude. “You cast a wide safety net and leave hardly any room for offensive spells! You’ll tire yourself out before defeating your opponents!” One clever Duro later and Ms Bombarda had a useless stone instead of a wand, on top of a newly sprained wrist. The nasty witch Disapparated immediately after. Coward.

“Too much defense is better than no defense!” Harry dropped his shield long enough to fire off an Expelliarmus before raising it again. Draco was beginning to suspect that was the only dueling spell Harry knew.

“Bollocks!” Draco flicked his wrist when yet another Bombarda bounced off his Protego-charmed left glove — his only shield in battle. He squinted against the light of the setting sun — what was one more thing going against him — and cast a spell that Severus had no idea he knew. “Sectumsempra!”

Harry managed to Stupefy two more smugglers before he turned to see the results of an unfamiliar spell. “Draco! I can’t arrest them if they bleed to death on the grass!”

“Some of us didn’t take an oath to protect the public, Harry!” Merlin, he was ungrateful. Draco’s next two Diffindos were far more legal but no less lethal. Their enemies had been whittled down to half of what they started with. The battle finally looked winnable for them.

Until one halfwit smuggler forgot they were on the edge of a _fucking forest_ and cast Fiendfyre without any knowledge on how to control it. That’s when all hell broke loose.

The remaining Wizards scattered like a flock of ravens, firing off parting curses and spells before they Disapparated in a series of loud pops. One of those happened to be a Jelly-Legs Jinx, of all things, aimed right at Harry. Of course, this affected his ability to run and caused him to barrel directly into Draco. They hit the ground hard enough to jostle their breathing and rolled down the cliff’s slope with increased momentum, Harry’s strong arms around him the only comfort as they went over the edge together.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Harry was shit at Disapparition. He couldn’t perform that breed of magic mid-air. However, he could cast a Cushioning Charm before they landed on a narrow ledge some thirty metres down. Anything was better than the ocean below and the visible crop of rocks poking out from the crashing waves.

His hand cradled the back of Draco’s skull, another protection against their harsh landing. It left them sore, the wind knocked from their lungs. Harry’s wand bounced out of his grip and fell beside them. With slow, pained movements Harry raised himself up to rest on his elbows, alleviating some of his weight from Draco’s diaphragm. This left them mere centimetres apart, gasping for breath into the shared space between their mouths. Their eyes were wide and focused on each other.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Draco said. The late sun was shining on his hair in such a way it looked golden instead of it’s normal silvery white. “And you accuse me of taking unnecessary risks.” His laugh was nothing more than a puff of warm air against Harry’s chapped lips. 

“You do take unnecessary risks,” Harry argued, balling up the end of Draco’s ponytail in his fist.

“Then what do you call this?” Draco arched a flirtatious brow. 

“Protecting you,” Harry said breathlessly. He leaned down closer, watched Draco’s eyes flutter close. _Beautiful. Fragile._

The loud screech that suddenly pierced the atmosphere startled them both. Draco bit his plush lower lip and Harry glanced up, just in time to see a Sulphur Crested Cockatoo fly overhead. Then swoop down and shit on the stone ledge beside their heads. 

“Salazar Fucking Slytherin!” Draco screamed, burying his face in Harry’s shoulder to turn away from the atrocity. “Banish it! Merlin! This is _the worst_ , I’d rather _die_ than be stuck here,” he whined.

Harry grimaced and silently agreed. Death sounded preferable to having his moment with Draco ruined by a bird shitting on their ledge, on his wand — _bloody hell_ , Harry could feel it congealing in his hair.

With a weary sigh, Harry reached out to grab his shit covered wand and wrapped an arm around Draco. “Hold on tight.” Harry placed one of Draco’s hands over the face of his wristwatch, then turned the side dial to activate the emergency Portkey that would take them back to the station. 

+++++

Harry was furious. Yesterday they had gathered all the evidence needed to make the necessary arrests. There was no reason for Draco to go off on his own to save the second stolen Dragon egg, which they failed to recover during their previous excursion. Harry didn’t even care that Draco was successful, it was irresponsible and dangerous.

Draco couldn’t seem to process that through his brick wall of a head. He was rolling his eyes at Harry right now, prancing around the office like it was just another day. Like he hadn’t nearly died, _again_. “You’re being ridiculous, I took the necessary precautions—”

“No, you didn’t!” Harry roared, slamming his palm down on the desk. “You never fucking do! You gallivant all over the city like you’re on some childish treasure hunt with a map leading you to a cauldron full of galleons and sweets. You don’t live in the real world like the rest of us! I can’t imagine the example you’re setting for Hermione and Teddy.”

“Don’t speak about them.” Draco was suddenly quiet and calm, but it was too late to play the respectable adult.

“Why not? Do you think I don’t know exactly what goes on in Teddy’s head? Wondering if you’re going to come home that night? If he’s going to trot down the stairs and see you being patched up in the kitchen, off your mind on a mix of healing and pain potions?”

“That doesn’t happen,” Draco said carefully. He approached Harry slowly like he was a wounded Hippogriff with hands cautiously out in front. “Harry, what is this really about?”

“Merlin, you’re just like him. Why couldn’t I see this sooner?” It was true. Draco was like his father, James, in so many ways — a lot of them good — but the worst ones too. That sense of recklessness, of complete trust and faith in his own abilities and judgment and talent and skill. His thirst for adventure and puzzles and knowledge and fun. His utter power and precision, that left very few rivals in magical status. But all it took was one mistake. A miscalculation. A second too slow in drawing his wand.

Harry had told Draco that he became an Auror like his father before him but that was as far as their conversation ever went. They’ve spent hours laughing over details about every choice Draco made that was different from Lucius. However, Harry never talked about James. It hurt too much. It hurt almost as much as seeing Draco today when they rescued him, blood on his face and a wand pointed at his throat, disarmed of his own.

Draco wouldn’t listen to anyone but himself, and he was going to get himself killed. 

“Who am I like, Harry?” Draco was close now, so close, too close. One hand was hovering over Harry’s chest, a silent question on whether comfort would be welcome. 

It wasn’t welcome if it was going to be ripped away from him without a single notice. 

“My father,” Harry laughed in a desperate way that sounded funny to no one.

“He was a proper Auror? Before the Australian Minister of Magic combined the Muggle and Magical branches, yes?” Draco looked confused. It was awful. James always had a similar expression when he couldn’t understand why Lily was upset.

“Yes, but he was forced to retire. You see, he _also_ thought he was invincible. He didn’t want to wait on his partner and went off early for a raid and nearly got himself _fucking killed_. He spent six months in Spell Damage before they let him come home. _Six months,_ Draco! I watched my mum suffer through hell because all my father could think about was his next adrenaline rush! Why do you think I’m always _so fucking careful_!” Harry wasn’t sure when he started shaking, but he noticed the moment Draco held his face.

“Harry… please calm down. It’s alright, Darling. We’re not your parents.”

And they never would be. Harry wasn’t going to give his heart over so Draco could carry it around as recklessly as he did all of his other shiny baubles. 

“You’re right. We’re not. Thanks for clearing that up, Malfoy.”

“Harry, no, wait. I think you’ve mistaken what I meant.” Draco tried to explain quickly. His eyes were unusually bright and his movements were twitchy like he was nervous but that couldn’t be right. Men like Draco were never nervous. About anything.

“Oh, come off it. Don’t you have a brothel and cigar waiting on you to show up? Or does your flavour of the day make house calls?”

For the first time this evening, Harry’s mind cleared up. Just in time to see Draco’s complexion pale and the spirit leave his eyes, the tension desert his shoulders. Like a body giving up it’s last breath. “For such a noble man, you can be exceptionally cruel when you want to be,” Draco whispered, then turned on his heel to Disapparate. 

Harry could feel the way Draco’s magic had violently torn through the wards to manage this feat. It felt like ice shards shimmering in the air around him, leaving him so cold he nearly choked on his own saliva.

The difference between their wounds was this: Draco had hurt Harry on accident with a careless grasp on words and his usual penchant for getting himself into trouble. Harry had pushed the blade in deep with purpose.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

The fall out of Draco and Inspector Potter had been difficult on everyone. Especially Ron and Hermione who felt caught between a cauldron and a kettle. Hermione had done all she could in picking up the pieces of Draco’s heart, or what little remained of it when he returned home that night in early April. She had expected Draco to throw himself headfirst into his drinking and smoking, his women and men. She didn’t know how to treat a quiet, reserved Draco who only wanted to stay home and read books with Teddy. She didn’t know how to act around a Draco who wasn’t himself.

He even gave up his cases for weeks, turning down offers left and right. The only positive thing to come out of the smuggling case was notoriety. Well, besides helping the sanctuary.

To add insult to injury, Severus invited Hermione over for tea — alone — to drop a vault load of information, none of which was good. Draco’s first serious boyfriend and Quidditch captain from school, Marcus Flint, was holding his engagement party at Malfoy Manor in a week. The wedding was scheduled for September. He was moving from London to Sydney for a job opportunity and would be living with Severus for the interim. This was to be considered _good news._

The bad news? It was the middle of May and Riddle was scheduled to be let out on parole in two day’s time. Or he had been, originally. Concerned for Draco’s mental state and his unhealthy obsession with serving justice for Theo, Severus had called on Shacklebolt to collect payment on a life debt. Riddle’s discharge date was moved forward without Draco’s knowledge. 

Theo’s suspected kidnapper and murderer had been a free Wizard for nearly twenty-fours before their tea.

Honestly, there was no reason to be surprised when a neighbouring child showed up dead in the Malfoy Manor’s pool the next morning.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione had asked Ron to pass along all of her recently attained knowledge to Harry, not as a means to gossip, but to be prepared for their current case. It was a wise decision. Draco’s ability to make sound judgments was compromised. 

Riddle had stuck their department with seven dead bodies in two days — three of them children. The others were a mix of colleagues and former students from his time as a university professor, cleaning house on those who testified against him previously. Someone in the Ministry would be losing their job: Riddle’s location tracker charm had been corrupted the moment it was applied and allowed him to easily dissolve it once he was discharged. No one had seen him since.

Riddle was a weak, untalented Wizard with no speciality set of skills. He’d spent his former days studying ancient Muggle mythology and was convinced that one of the lesser-known Egyptian gods was a powerful Wizard, who’s magic could be accessed and harnessed through a series of rituals. This directly conflicted with known Wizarding history. Riddle was only chasing Pixie Dust. 

And Draco Malfoy.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Their seventh crime scene in two days and Draco felt like he was running on fumes. He’d sicked up his last meal and the complete lack of sleep hindered him too. Hermione had lectured him about abusing Pepper-Up Potion just to make it this far, but no one else understood. Draco had to catch Riddle and kill him before he hurt anyone else. It was the only way.

While Harry had shown kindness this week, it was a stiff variation that was different from their usual camaraderie. One more brick in the wall of uneasy feelings and that sinking paranoia that something was extremely wrong. Inspector Potter wasn’t acting like Harry and he wasn’t letting Draco solve the case.

“What about the cabinet that was broken into? I need to look around,” Draco said. They were in a shop for second-hand magical antiquities, and Harry wasn’t allowing him a chance to investigate. _It’s almost as if he wanted to let Riddle getaway, again._

“No, you don’t,” Harry said, his voice firm.

“Yes, I do!”

“No, you don’t. You’re too involved with this case. You need to go home and get some sleep.” Harry dismissed Draco without another glance and addressed Hermione instead. “Make sure he does, Miss Granger.”

Hermione at least had some sense of loyalty. She hesitated before following orders and grabbing Draco by the arm. “Come on, Draco. Let’s go home.”

+++++

Arriving home felt like a Dementor’s Kiss.

Riddle had swooped in and taken Teddy, his Tracking Spelled necklace purposely left behind on his bed. Blaise, Greg, and Vince were bound and unconscious in the living room. Kreacher was in the kitchen, under a full Body Bind with a cursed Stone of Sustainability balanced on his head. 

A sheet of parchment had been placed on Draco’s bedroom door with a Sticking Charm, detailing all of Riddle’s requests — first of which, was for Draco to join him, alone.

Draco would have done exactly that if Hermione hadn’t Stunned him.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

The DMLE station had been thrown into chaos by Riddle’s murderous rampage. When Hermione showed up with a Stunned Draco and news of a missing Teddy, it was merely a tipping point for their cauldron of problems. Add to that Severus Rennervating Draco without knowing why he was in such a state, to begin with.

 _Salazar Slytherin_ , Harry was about to lose his damn mind.

“Riddle can have me if he lets Teddy go!” Draco protested in the middle of the lower rank’s bullpen. Ron was supposed to be helping Severus with cross-referencing maps of magical properties against lists of wild-grown Potion ingredients found at Riddle’s old home, but Harry could use his help with restraining Draco at the moment.

“You can’t go and offer yourself. That will solve _nothing_ , Malfoy.”

“Edgecombe is the last professor on Riddle’s list, and he thinks she has the ring he needs to complete his summoning ritual. I need to go back there!”

“I won’t let you!” Harry blocked Draco from physically running out with a repeat of their side step dance from the train. Speciality wards were in place since the DMLE was on high alert, thus eliminating Draco’s chance to forcefully Disapparate. “You’re under arrest.”

“What? The hell I’m not!” Draco screeched, his pointy elbows made painful contact everywhere that they could.

“It’s for your own safety.”

“Don’t be absurd! You have no grounds for holding me!” Draco yelled. Right before kicking Harry square in the shin.

“That’s it. _Incarcerous_!” Harry cast the spell to bound Draco’s hands behind his back and his legs together tight, no chance for him to run out. “You’re officially charged with assaulting an Auror class, police Inspector and withholding evidence.” Harry Summoned the ring in question from Draco’s pocket then turned to Ron. “Constable Weasley, remove Mr Malfoy’s gun and wand from his person and escort him to the magical holding cells.”

“You can’t do this!” Draco cried. This was the most upset Harry had ever seen him and as much as it broke his heart, he couldn’t let Draco go. It was too dangerous.

“I can and I will. Riddle won’t be expecting me in your place and _I’m_ willing to take back up with me.” Harry turned to glare at Ron who sat frozen beside an equally silent Severus. “Do your job, Ron. That’s an order.”

Unable to bear the tears streaming down Draco’s face, Harry turned and left, without looking back.

+++++

That choice had been a mistake and a blessing.

For all that Riddle was a weakly powered Wizard and considered crazy by some, he wasn’t ignorant. His plans were far too clever. His plans for Harry were to separate him from the rest of his pack. To disarm him and weaken him with the misted spray of a potion he didn’t recognize. 

Every detail of his plan to capture Riddle had been tossed aside like rubbish and instead, Harry played right into his hands. He ended up in a cell beside a frightened Teddy, bruised, bloody, and magically bound by whatever crown Riddle had on top of his head. Worried like hell because Riddle was still out there, verbally taunting the Draco that probably lived in Riddle’s mind.

No. No, that was the real-life Draco, in the flesh. Harry couldn’t just hear his voice, cracked and broken and furious. He could now see his reflection in the handheld mirror Riddle had discarded on the floor. 

“But you came willingly!” Riddle shouted after a large crack echoed in the damp underground basement they were trapped in. Harry felt his shoulders droop and the strain of tension release. He turned his wrists in a circular motion and stretched — and was shocked to realize that whatever Draco had done, it had broken the Curse he and Teddy were under. They could move again.

“I came willingly to find out what happened to my Theo. I came to rescue Teddy and Harry. _I didn’t come for you_.” Teddy let out a quiet noise of distress and even Harry paused at the tone of Draco’s voice. It was terrifying. As dark as Peruvian Darkness Powder, as malevolent as Fiendfyre, as cold as a ghost passing through your body. But it wasn’t directed towards them. Draco sounded like this while _protecting_ them. Harry could feel the strength of Draco’s magic in the air like lightning crackling in a storm.

“I only tried to lead the way!” Riddle was backed into a corner, his crown broken in pieces around him, with his split wand in his left hand and a dagger in his right. His offensive attempt at Egyptian paint was smudged across his face and a white glowing ring hovered around his neck.

Draco’s wand held steady, controlling the noose. “ _You led the way to hell_.”

“Please!” Harry quickly covered Teddy’s eyes when Riddle moved to impale himself on the knife, but Draco’s glowing noose tightened and choked him before he could succeed. “No, you’re not headed for your glorious afterlife. You’re going back to prison so you can rot as you deserve,” Draco hissed before collapsing. 

Harry didn’t know what sort of magic Draco had used to escape, or to find them or to defeat Riddle, but he recognized magical core depletion when he saw it. 

“Teddy, I’m _so sorry,_ ” Draco whispered from his place curled up on the dirty stone ground. 

“Draco. You’re okay, it’s going to be alright. We’re all safe now.” Harry wasn’t sure who needed his comfort the most — Draco, Teddy, or himself. All he knew was that they needed to Portkey to St. Gorsemoor’s immediately.

+++++

“And that is a true statement of events as you recall them?” Shacklebolt asked.

“It is,” Harry confirmed.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

“It’s nice of you to join us, Draco. I was wondering if I’d have to enjoy your ‘Thank Merlin you’re alive’ flowers all by myself,” Pansy said, smirking down at Draco from her perch beside his hospital bed.

“You hate flowers,” Draco mumbled. He was adorable when he was incoherent.

“I hate the uselessness of flowers. That’s different.”

“Teddy?”

“He’s fine,” Pansy reassured him while she smoothed his hair back from his face. For all of his poshness, he sweat like a pig while sleeping. “Close your eyes and enjoy a nap that isn’t magically induced and when you wake up, I’ll tell you all about it. It’s better than anything Lockhart ever wrote.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Teddy’s blood and magical signature had never been tested until he was brought into the hospital with Harry and Draco. So imagine the surprise when he proved to be of Black Family blood. _Narcissa had a fit for the ages._

Severus wasn’t sure what chain of command she went through, what strings she pulled or arms she twisted, but it was only a matter of hours before her estranged sister Andromeda arrived by international Portkey from America. Apparently the daughter she had with her Muggle husband had not only fought in the Muggle World War. She’s moved to Sydney and had a baby with a local Werewolf, too. They both died sadly, including the paternal grandmother which was how Teddy ended up unaccounted for and left to suffer in the state’s child foster care system. Some wrongs would be made right, however. They were both moving back to England to live with Draco’s parents so Teddy could receive his schooling in Hogwarts. It was far superior to what Australia had to offer at this time.

Riddle was righteously mad, but he _had_ uncovered several interesting magical artefacts that were going to be closely studied.

Theo’s remains were finally found and Lucius arranged for him to be given a proper Wizarding burial on the Malfoy Estate.

Inspector Potter was… Well, as difficult as he normally became around Draco. His request for a month leave would probably do him some good. Feelings were an awful thing to sort through. Severus didn’t know how other people managed.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Hello Inspector Potter,” Hermione said when she answered the door. “Has there been another crime? Ron just sat down for dinner, but if you need him—”

“I’m actually here for Draco,” Harry said, cheeks blushed but posture strong and sure.

“Oh.” Hermione bit her lip and glanced around the front hall. “Have you not read his letter yet?”

“I did. He told me he was moving back to England. I’m here to talk him out of it.”

“Inspector… Harry. Draco’s already gone. He drove out to the airfield just after lunch. I’m so sorry.” Hermione sighed and opened the door further, an invitation to come inside. “Would you like to join us? Blaise has roasted a duck.”

“Gone?” Harry took a step back, then a second, his breath coming fast and chest tight. “The airfield? Just past the edge of town? Public one? Or the close one, attached to the Naval port?”

“The public one, up north.” Hermione frowned. “But Inspector—”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered before spinning in place, the loud crack of Apparition drowning out Hermione’s last words.

+++++

Harry nearly Splinched himself, but it wasn’t in vain. He popped into a large field behind the hangers, Draco’s yellow plane far away but still visibly on the ground.

Still here.

Harry took off sprinting, his nerves too fragile to risk Apparating all the way there. He’d never make it in one piece or on time. With his lungs heaving and muscles burning, Harry put all his energy into running towards the plane.

Towards Draco.

From the halfway mark, he could tell Draco hadn’t boarded yet, puttering around the landing gear with his back turned. Blind to the sight of Harry, but not deaf.

He pulled his wand out and cast a quick Sonorus, almost entirely out of breath when he yelled, “Draco! Draco, wait!”

Draco quickly stood up from the crouch he was in, his expression too far away to see clearly. It had to be a positive one though, considering he turned towards Harry after a moment’s pause. He even began walking to meet him.

When he was finally close enough, Harry could make out the dazed look on his face, grey eyes wide. White blond hair shining in the sun. His lips looked wind-chapped but kissable as ever. 

Draco was mind numbly gorgeous, and Harry was never going to let the menace out of his sight again. Come hell or high water. “Harry?” he asked with a tilt of his head, voice quiet. Maybe he thought he was dreaming. That Harry would read his letter and let him go without a fight.

If that was the case, Draco was dead wrong.

“Draco!” Harry cast a Finite, then pushed to close the final meters between them and threw his arms around Draco’s slim waist. He nearly took them both down, off-balanced and out of breath, tripping into an unintentional spin. Dizzy and high on relief, Harry pulled Draco flush against his body, one hand travelling up to cup his face. He thumbed over the beauty mark on his cheekbone and panted, hot breath over Draco’s mouth. “Please, Draco. Wait. Don’t leave.”

Draco licked his lips and held Harry’s gaze. He trembled in Harry’s arms. “My parents are already expecting me.”

“Do you have to go?” Harry found a way to be even closer, their breath mingling, mouths nearly touching. _This was it._

“Yes, I do,” Draco whispered, the wind blowing a few loose strands of hair away from his face. With a harsh sounding swallow, Draco peeled Harry’s hand away and stepped out of his hold.

Harry’s heart dropped cold where he stood.

“But I don’t have to go alone.” 

With a watery smile, Draco walked back ten paces. Like he was preparing for a duel with an opponent he considered worthy. “Come after me, Harry Potter.”

Harry gasped and bent down to rest his hands on his knees. Trust Draco to bring him to the edge of death, a dangerous moment suspended in time, then yank him back to safety. So he could offer up that promising smile of his. “It takes a very brave man to propose to you, Draco Malfoy.”

“Or a very foolish one,” Draco said, his voice warm with humour.

“Ask me again.” Harry straightened up and aimed his wand at the base of his throat. He tapped twice and all the buttons on his work coat came undone. The fabric slid off his shoulders and onto the short, dewy grass below.

“Come after me, Harry Potter,” Draco said with a devilish curve to his lips. A laugh rang out and then he turned to run back to his plane.

Inciting a chase. Daring Harry to catch him.

**So he did.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading all of this ridiculousness! I know this ending feels like a cop-out for some people, so go read chapter 2; the PWP ending. Where Draco and Harry finally have sex! \o/
> 
> If excessive porn isn't your thing, don't worry! That's honestly all that happens in chapter 2. Thank you again for reading!


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry have sex in the middle of an airfield. This breaks a number of public decency laws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what you have all been waiting for.

Draco’s joyous laughter was picked up by the breeze and carried across the open field as he ran towards his plane. He shouted when thick arms caught him around the waist and pulled him back into a sturdy chest, just before his hand made contact with the yellow painted frame. “Looks like I caught the golden snitch,” Harry rumbled into his ear.

A shiver ran down Draco’s spine and left him feeling like jelly in Harry’s hold. “A hundred and fifty points to you, Inspector.” Draco cupped the back of Harry’s neck and smooched his cheek, encouraging Harry to turn into a proper kiss. And what a proper kiss it was — deep, heated, possessive. Without care, Draco raked his fingers up the back of Harry’s head, knocking his fedora to the ground so he could bury his hand in thick curls. It only took a moment of straining their necks for Harry to loosen his hold enough for Draco to turn around and embrace Harry fully, arms thrown over his shoulders and guiding their bodies backward until he had the frame of his de Havilland against his back. 

Even while kissing, Draco still couldn’t believe he had Harry here with him. Harry never visited Draco after he woke up in St Gorsemoor, only during the week he spent in a magically induced coma while his magical core was replenished. Then Harry took leave and left Melbourne for Sydney, a clear sign he wanted to be left alone. Which Draco had respected, as much as it killed him. He went about his days, arranged all of his affairs in order.

As heartbreaking as it was — Draco prepared himself physically, mentally, and emotionally — to return to England and leave Harry Potter behind. The same way he’d left every other lover. The goodbye letter he’d sent by owl wasn’t for Harry. The closure was for Draco, a chance to say everything he’d ever wanted, but was never given the chance to do.

But this? Harry showing up — literally running — to gather Draco in his arms and stop him from leaving? It felt like one of those ridiculously sentimental happy endings in fairy tales that his mother loved reading to him as a child. A bit like casting his first spell with magic, like walking through the grand doors of Hogwarts for the first time. Like flying his DH.60 Moth through the open-air without magic, only Muggle science keeping him soaring above the clouds.

Having Harry here beside him, the rush of happiness and excitement, with no expectancy of coming down, it all felt like those emotions and memories swirled together, times a thousand. There was requited love in this new mix. Enough to cast an infinite number of Patronus Charms.

Draco smiled so wide into the kiss that their teeth clacked together and he laughed. “You’d better not be laughing at me, Malfoy,” Harry admonished with no real bite. 

Draco shook his head with gentle motions, their noses rubbing together in a rather sappy way. “I’m laughing at us.”

“That isn’t much better.” Harry sucked kisses down the line of Draco’s jaw and slid his hands down to cup Draco’s plush arse, doling out a squeeze that made Draco’s hips roll. “It’s… really… quite… rude,” Harry bit down on the side of Draco’s neck. “Thought you had better manners,” Harry said with a smack to Draco’s arse before he hefted him up and encouraged Draco’s legs to wrap around his waist. 

“Name one thing I’ve ever done to give you that impression, Inspector.” 

“You spent a year driving me absolutely mad,” Harry growled and pulled off the tie that secured Draco’s hair. “You found joy in skirting every law on the books.” He pressed Draco harder against the plane and started grinding his hips for a hint of friction. “You tempted me every day in your bloody clothes and provocative heels.” With a tight grip on Draco’s hair, Harry tilted his head back and licked a line down his throat, then grazed his teeth on the skin above the collar of his blouse. 

“None of those sound like something a good boy would do,” Draco teased, tugging on Harry’s ear until he earned a bite over his adam’s apple. _Merlin, he was a glutton for punishment._

“Exactly. I thought I was due for a reprieve once your spoiled arse got what you wanted.”

Draco nibbled on Harry’s ear then laughed softly. “I suppose I can be nice then. You did give me what I wanted. Although I would have preferred a flashier proposal.”

“Nothing is ever shiny enough for you.” Harry set Draco back down on the ground so he had unhindered access to the buttons on Draco’s blouse, his belt, the placket on his trousers. He left Draco’s clothing opened without bothering to pull it off, snaking an impatient hand inside to wrap around his dick. “Lacy knickers? You’re determined to bloody strike me down,” Harry groaned and buried his face in Draco’s neck.

“They’re aerodynamic,” Draco gasped, his sarcasm falling flat when he thrust forward into Harry’s warm hand.

“If I didn’t love you, I swear I’d hate you.” Harry kissed his way down Draco’s chest and pulled his blouse open to reveal more pale skin. He licked one nipple and thumbed over the other, leaving a sucking kiss before switching his administrations. Draco moaned and pulled his blouse off his shoulders, then he dropped it to the side carelessly. He jumped ahead of Harry and pushed his trousers down his thighs and stepped out of them. It left him standing in heels and a pair of black, lace knickers, his erection straining the front of the fabric obscenely. The head of his dick was a ruddy red and drooling enough to create a damp spot on the lace. Harry had Draco so worked up, the kisses and nips down his sternum, his stomach and to his hips only made him more desperate.

“Harry,” Draco whispered with a hand in his curls.

“Gonna suck you,” Harry groaned and scraped his teeth over Draco’s hipbone. He laved his tongue over Draco’s lace-clad erection, several wide swathes that left the fabric thoroughly wet. Draco’s hips and breaths stuttered out of time as a whine left him.

“Don’t like being teased, huh? It isn’t fun to be on the receiving end of it,” Harry muttered. He reached down and cupped himself in his work suit trousers, then suckled on the head of Draco’s cock through the lace. It was the sweetest type of torture.

“I’ll get you back,” Draco promised, wavering in place.

“Not right now.” Harry turned his head and rubbed his cheek and beard against Draco’s crotch, smearing the wet mix of saliva and precum on his face, sticky, matting down the hair of his beard. He cast a quiet Diffindo and neatly cut the lace knickers on both sides, then pulled the damp lace free from Draco’s body. His erection slapped back against his stomach with a wet smack.

“You won’t be needing these,” Harry said and tucked the soiled underwear into his trouser pockets with a filthy smirk.

“You gonna sniff them later, Inspector?” Draco asked. His sass disappeared when Harry sucked his cock halfway down without preamble. _Merlin, what a mouth._ After a few swallows, Harry pulled off and licked his way down the shaft.

“Wait, let’s return to your confession of love for me.” Draco gasped when Harry sucked a kiss on the base of his cock and fondled his balls.

“What would you like to discuss?” Harry spit into hand and switched to jerking Draco off with consistent, slow pulls while he kissed his pale inner thighs. “You’re an antagonizing, beautiful, clever shit and I’ve fallen in love with you.” Harry smiled and buried his face against Draco’s skin for a moment as if he was feeling shy.

“I love you, too, Harry. More than you know,” Draco said quietly, without a hint of playfulness. He needed Harry to know how much he meant to Draco, that this wasn’t some passing fancy before he moved onto the next person he wanted to share his time and happiness with. He’d been correct to tell Cho he couldn’t settle down with one woman forever, but he could pledge himself to a faithful life with one Chief Inspector, Harry Potter.

Draco could feel the sigh Harry let out, the sparse hair on his legs ruffled by it while the warmth from developing beard burn began to tingle. Harry resumed stroking Draco’s cock, where their confession had slowed his pace down. He dropped a few more kisses across Draco’s hips and groin before raising his eyes, so green met grey. “I want you to fuck me.”

Draco let his head drop back and hit the plane with a thump, his eyes closed as Harry drew him back into his mouth. “That’s. Yeah. Okay.” Draco arched his back when Harry grabbed his arse and pulled his hips closer for a deeper suck. “You do realize I can’t fuck your arse and mouth at the same time? I _am_ incredible but I haven’t reached that level of… _Merlin and Morgana_ , Harry.”

After he’d taken too much, Harry gagged and pulled off of Draco’s cock, “Please.”

Draco nodded and gazed down at the wrecked image Harry made — on his knees in the dirt with one hand massaging his bulge, his lips swollen, green eyes dark with want. It made him feel powerful but also in debt. To be given something so beautiful as Harry in this state.

Draco wanted to give him something in return. And if it happened to coincide with Draco’s own selfish desires? Well, that was neither here nor there.

“Stand up and strip for me. Place your hands against the plane and stand with your legs spread.” Draco ordered and then Summoned a small jar from inside the aircraft that he would need shortly.

Harry blinked and stood up, seeming a bit dazed but obedient. He removed his button-down, tie, trousers, socks, and shoes until he was left with only his thigh holster and his wand. He held Draco’s gaze when he slowly unbuckled the holster and set it — his wand included — aside on the ground. The biggest show of trust that he could give to Draco.

It made Draco falter in his step forward. Overcome with emotion, Draco swallowed and bent down to place his own wand on the grass beside Harry’s. They were going to be equally disarmed.

“It’s been… a while. If you don’t mind going slow at first.” Harry said with tinted cheeks, resolutely facing the plane like asked, instead of Draco. “Over a year, in fact. My— erm… Cedric moved away shortly before you arrived. Back to England, actually. He was— We were. Not that it matters now. I’m not—“

Draco ran a hand down Harry’s shivering spine then wrapped him up in a hug from behind. “Ronald told me. Cedric broke the engagement for a teaching spot at Hogwarts. I can’t say I’m sorry with any amount of sincerity because I doubt I could’ve won you over from him. I am, however, sorry you were hurt.” Draco kissed the sensitive skin below Harry’s ear, then trailed down his neck, shoulder, to the top of his back. Draco stroked the muscles in Harry’s back and massaged his sides while he kissed his way down the bumps in his spine.

“What are you…”

“Shh.” Draco shushed and squeezed the globes of Harry’s arse before pulling them apart. He whispered a gentle Cleansing Spell and nipped one cheek. 

“Wandless?” Harry asked with a hitch in his breathing, squirming from the effects of the cool cleansing.

“My first wandless accomplishment. I’m very proud,” he chuckled, warm huffs of breath hitting the exposed skin which caused Harry to shiver more. Skipping the rim, for now, Draco kissed his way down the hairy crack, to his taint then his balls which he suckled on, one at a time. 

Harry groaned and widened his stance, his head dropping down to hang between his arms. He was completely submitted to Draco and it was intoxicating. 

Draco moaned and licked his way back up to Harry’s puckered rim. A deep inhale had him swimming in Harry’s musk, kneading the globes on each side of his face as he held Harry open as much as he could. The desire to tease and slowly open Harry on his tongue was beaten out by his own impatience. Another day, Draco planned to spread Harry out on his bed and take his time devouring every last centimetre of him. Until then… 

Draco licked a broad stroke across Harry’s furled rim, pressure firm and wet. He noisily licked his way inside; the slurps and hums bold enough to make the most callous man blush as he began spearing Harry with his tongue. Shallow at first, and slow until the muscle relaxed under his ministrations. 

When he started, Harry’s body was rife with tension from holding himself still, but now he began to push back in subtle twitches, almost unconscious to it happening. That simply wouldn’t do. Draco wanted Harry to lose himself in the pleasure of being eaten out, the knowledge that Draco wanted to be inside him in the most intimate of ways. There was one solution.

Draco pulled away and licked the spit from his lips, smacking them loudly as he patted Harry’s hip. “Scoot over. To the left, right there. Pick your foot up and rest it on the wing. You won’t hurt it, c’mon.” He gave Harry’s bum a rewarding pat when he moved into the position Draco guided him to; his left foot upon the plane’s lower wing, his hips tilted back and arse firmly on display. His legs were naturally spread now, his cheeks easier to part. The crack of his arse was shiny with saliva, his dark hair matted with sweat and spit.

Harry looked obscenely debauched. Draco wished Dean was here to paint the scenery of it, so Draco could admire it on his wall forever. It seems he’d have to make do with a Pensieve instead because _this_ wasn’t something he ever wanted to forget.

 _“Draco.”_ And Salazar, Harry was whining now, “The wind is cold, please.” He folded his arms against the plane and buried his red face to hide obvious embarrassment, but Draco continued to play with his arse. He massaged the bum cheeks, spread them apart and pushed them back together close, doled out smacks to the skin until it turned red. 

“Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” Draco ordered before gently biting the back of Harry’s thigh.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please tongue-fuck my arsehole, you absolute wanker. Merlin, Morgana, and Circe!”

Draco laughed and blew a raspberry on his left arsecheek. “That isn’t very nice, Harry. You’re always lecturing me about my manners, you should be setting a better example,” he teased and spread Harry’s cheeks apart wide. Still, he waited, but not for long. 

With a growl, Harry reached back to clutch at Draco’s head and push his face into his bum. “Use your fucking mouth, Malfoy.”

It was electrifying to see Harry lose the iron grip on his control, and well worth a reward. Draco went back to licking and sucking Harry with vigour, his tongue stiff as could be when plunging into his rim. One hand moved to cradle his balls, his thumb pressed firmly against his perineum. Harry panted and slipped a hand down to fist around his cock, wanking himself off with short, fast pulls. 

The muscles in his lower body twitched sporadically and the growing sound of Harry’s grunt and groans clued Draco into how close he was to climax. Harry needed to hold off just a little while longer. With one more swipe of his tongue over Harry’s crack, Draco pulled his face away and opened the summoned jar by his side, then generously coated two fingers with the magical lube he brewed himself. It tasted pleasant while acting as a very low-grade muscle relaxant and sufficient lubricant. Quick and effective for loosening Harry up, while leaving him ready to be eaten out again after — Draco was salivating over just the thought of what was going to happen.

“Why’d you stop?” Harry complained, shifting to fuck into the tight grip of his own fist once he no longer had the pleasure of duel sensations.

Draco let the element of surprise and Harry’s distraction work in his favour, he slid the first finger in with relative ease and kissed Harry’s inner thigh. “You asked me to fuck you earlier. I’m trying to be a man of my word, Inspector. Problem?” Harry gasped and pushed back against the sudden intrusion and shook his head. “I can’t last that long. Draco, I’m so close.” As if to prove the point, his arm sped up faster when Draco began to pull back and thrust back in.

Draco coated his own erection with a moan and stood back up, adding in a second finger without warning. “That’s alright, Harry,” he crooned into Harry’s ear. “You can come whenever you need to. If it’s before you’re ready to take me, that will just make you even looser around my cock. All slick and sloppy and open for me. In the middle of a wide-open field. Or did you forget? Anyone can see us right now, Harry. Anyone could look over from the hangers or neighbouring land. They don’t even have to be close enough to see details to know what we’re doing. One glance and they can see that I’m about to fuck your arse against my plane, naked as can be. Tell me, Inspector, how many public indecency laws are we breaking together right now, hmm?”

His filthy commentary was all it took to send Harry over the edge with a garbled groan of curses and Draco’s name. The contractions of his arse around Draco’s fingers were maddening and he barely waited for Harry to begin winding down before pulling out and replacing them with his cock. Salazar, Harry was pure ecstasy around him. Luckily for both of them, Draco had no chance of lasting. 

“So perfect. You were worth waiting for. Love you,” Draco muttered into Harry’s neck. His grip was bruising tight on Harry’s hips as he drove into him repeatedly, his whine pitching up higher as he ascended into his own orgasm in a humiliatingly short period. He buried himself deep and emptied into Harry’s body, his sweaty forehead pressed against Harry’s nape while his heartbeat thumped at a rabbit’s pace. If later he was pressed about how little time he spent actually fucking his new lover, Draco was prepared to make the argument that he had been turned on, even before the blowjob he received prior to the inebriating experience that was licking Harry’s arsehole. He could wax poetic on parchment until Harry was ready to give up on the matter altogether. 

His Inspector was certainly a stubborn man, but no one could beat out Draco in sheer revelry. He still couldn’t believe they were going to have a lifetime together to prove this. Draco laughed to himself and nibbled on Harry’s shoulder when he hobbled about so both feet were planted firmly on the ground again.

“Yes, this is all wonderful but I’m beginning to feel rather sticky if you don’t mind…” Harry said with only a slightly grumpy tone. If he was this way now, Draco couldn’t wait for the first time he would wake Harry up unnecessarily early for sleepy morning sex. The post-coitus complaining would be legendary. 

“As you wish.” Draco pulled out of Harry slowly, then slipped a finger back inside to keep him plugged up while he knelt behind him. Once in position, he removed his finger and spread Harry’s cheeks apart to watch the mixture of semen and lubricant as it dribbled out of his puffy rim and down his crack. It was glorious. 

“Draco! That isn’t cleaning me up,” Harry squirmed, nearly dislodging Draco’s hold.

“I have to make a mess before I can clean.” Draco huffed warm laughter across Harry’s bare bum then lapped up the cooling dirtiness until it was gone. He took pity on Harry and cast a proper Cleaning Charm afterward. When he was finished, he pressed a smacking kiss on each cheek, simply because he could now. Harry was his and he was Harry’s. Draco breathed out a happy little sigh and wrapped his arms around Harry’s thighs in a hug. It left his cheekbone squashed against a bum cheek but that was fine with Draco.

“If you’re quite done worshipping my arse, I would like to redress. It’s a bit breezy.”

“Not allowed. I’ll require your arse to be naked in my presence, always.”

“You’re a menace, Draco Malfoy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again for reading!
> 
> ***
> 
> This work is part of "Lights, Camera, Drarry" (LCDrarry), a film-, TV- and theatre-inspired Drarry fest.  
>  The creators will be revealed on [tumblr](http://lcdrarry.tumblr.com) and [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/LCDrarry2020/works) on 15 June 2020.
> 
> Please show your appreciation to the creator with kudos and comments :)


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